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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26288629">happy playlists for sad souls</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelycherryblondelocks/pseuds/lovelycherryblondelocks'>lovelycherryblondelocks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we are but a smidgen in a sea of canvases [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Childhood Friends, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kageyama Tobio-centric, M/M, Mystery, Parallel Universes, Tsukishima Kei-centric, unedited</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:48:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>61,026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26288629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelycherryblondelocks/pseuds/lovelycherryblondelocks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The night of September 19, Tobio receives a message at his doorstep. It comes in the form of a half-opened box, filled with notes and tapes of unfamiliar songs Tobio is yet to name. At the back of the loosely tied ribbon sits firmly a badly scribbled sentence.</p><p>It reads: The day before the Nationals, Tsukishima Kei died.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji &amp; Bokuto Koutarou &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou &amp; Tsukishima Kei &amp; Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou &amp; Kageyama Tobio &amp; Tsukishima Kei &amp; Yamaguchi Tadashi, Kageyama Tobio &amp; Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio &amp; Tsukishima Kei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we are but a smidgen in a sea of canvases [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>213</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. TRACK V</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this fic contains a series of sensitive issues, both directly and indirectly referenced. please read the tags before proceeding. tags will be updated along the way. </p><p>there may be errors ahead. nevertheless, i hope you'll have a nice read &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>*</p><p>
  <em>Has the rain stopped pouring?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What rain? It's always sunny where I live.</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Tobio is not one for complex things.</p><p>He finds it tedious to mull over abstract artworks or long-winded paragraphs about the exceptionality of <em>this</em>, or the subtlety of <em>that</em>. He doesn't waste his time dawdling over anything remotely complicated because he finds them needlessly tiring.</p><p>Tobio follows things by instinct. And so when he finds a math problem too perplexing, or an english homework too tortuous - he leaves them unanswered and saves the rest of his time for volleyball practice. His clock only ticks for volleyball, and the rest of its seconds are spared for trivial things. But he assures that not a minute is spent on puzzling stuff.</p><p><em>The worst a man has to live as is a desperate thinker</em>. His father often said. And Tobio lives by his words without protest.</p><p>Because Tobio is not one for complex things. He measures his steps through instinct. He had survived longer than his classmates had because of it - glued to the warnings of his gut-feeling every time he was met with a novelty.</p><p>But see, at times his instincts fail him, and Tobio is sent adrift without any knowledge about sailing or surviving in the open sea.</p><p>In those instances, where his father's briefly-worded proverbs could not offer him help, Tobio indulges in planning (shocking, he knows).</p><p>Thus, as he sits, the bulk of his shadows towering over a small, slightly dented box, he recounts two of his most efficient problem-solving methods:</p><p>Tobio could either, <em>one</em>-ignore the package and its cryptic contents or <em>two</em>-confront the source head-on and deliver it back to its rightful doorstep.</p><p>The plan is easy enough to initiate action. The problem is that Tobio is too peeved by the package's letter and more than uninformed of its direct origin.</p><p>He asked his mother about it enough times to warrant a second slap to the head. His father, though more helpful on good days, had simply grumbled at him with a dismissive shrug. Tobio would have asked his sister too, had the woman been sober enough for a decent conversation.</p><p>So he spent a good chunk of his free hour restlessly pacing around his room, unable to find any piece of useful input to work with. The ominous aura of the box that sat near his bedpost had not -even for one bit - alleviated the brewing tension either.</p><p>It was due to the stubborn eagerness that Tobio finally convinced himself it was time to formulate for a plan three - which in itself, is alarming. The boy had never gone beyond two back-up plans. One back-up had been the maximum. Two back-ups had meant immediate intervention. And three? Tobio finds that comparable to a harrowing hailstorm.</p><p>Three is a dreadful phase. Because three would mean calling the subject of the box's content. And that particular subject, Tobio finds, is the most uncaring, unbearable, unfriendly person he's ever met. Really, how on earth would he go about calling Tsukishima Kei, the embodiment of abomination, in the dead of the night because of some mysterious package?</p><p>The thought of it is beyond his imagination. To actually do it is more than what Tobio had thought himself capable of withstanding. Tsukishima Kei, to put it bluntly, <em>is</em> a gigantic, monumental, <em>unsparing </em>pain in the ass. That's to say he's a huge, prickly dick to even consider putting in anywhere. Hell, he was even more of a thorn to talk to. Always bored, usually impassive and rarely interested in anything.</p><p>If Tobio had to describe him in one word, it'd be too much of a task to do. But, he'll try anyway. Tsukishima Kei is, in two simple words(instead), an <em>exceptional asshole</em>.<br/>
Granted, he would be the only asshole able to take his own bullshit. So he surmises, for the sake of his own sanity, that calling the blonde was out of the question.</p><p>Still, as he glowers at the vague letters in his hand, he feels the gnawing temptation to do otherwise. It peeves him, the vain, morally inclined portion of himself yearning to be let out. It follows with a festive tingle in his stomach, a feeling Tobio cannot, for the life of him, discard.</p><p>Thinking too deeply had not been of any great help to his ongoing conflict. Like a web, the slope of uncertainties tangle together, creating a downward spiral of more and more confusion – should he believe it? should he inform the authorities? should he care at all?</p><p>"What?"</p><p>In the end, Tobio found himself conceding. The gears in his head had pretty much malfunctioned from all the stalling. Tobio took it upon himself to act directly. Doused in mumbled strings of comforts and pleading whispers that seem to utter <em>just one call – </em>Tobio let himself be whisked away by his own curiosity.One call. A fast <em>ring, click, hello</em> and he'll be done with it come morrow morning.</p><p>So, tongue close to sputtering helplessly, Tobio abruptly welcomes the rude greeting, "I had a package sent to me with your name on it."</p><p>The static noise from the other line was strangely sporadic. If Tobio leaned any closer, he'd be able to hear Tsukishima's bated exhales through the phone's blinking screen.</p><p>"Strange," The teen mutters, flat if not for the slight croak in his voice. "I don't seem to recall ordering anything online. No message either. Are you sure it's mine?"</p><p>Tobio scoffs, offended, "I just said it had your name on it -"<em>Well</em>, not exactly written to mean <em>for</em> him, but Tobio supposes the mention of it could be considered as an official recipient. "Anyway, it's your problem now so -"</p><p>"Hold your horses, King."</p><p>Tobio scowls at the interruption. "Listen, it's <em>your </em>package. I don't know how or why it got here but I'm sure as hell not taking responsibility for this."</p><p>He hears a shuffle from the other line, presumably Tsukishima's sheets rustling in agitation. "No, you listen to me. I told you, I didn't order anything. And if nii-san sent me any package, he would have called to warn me about it."</p><p>"Really? The only sender you could think of is your brother?"</p><p>It's a petty assault  Tobio admittedly could not pass by and the precious chance to poke fun of it had presented itself all too well for his conniving intentions. Sadly, and though predictable, the short-lived victory did not last long in his favour.</p><p>"You don't have friends either. At least I get strange packages delivered my way."</p><p>"Ha, so you do admit it's <em>yours</em>."</p><p>With an indignant squawk, Tsukishima quickly retorts back, "Assuming it is mine, then don't bother with it. If it's sent anonymously, it might not be important enough to disturb my sleep."</p><p>"So what else am I supposed to do with it then?"</p><p>At that, the blonde simply snorts. "Hell if I know. Throw it out or something."</p><p>Tobio knits his eyebrows at the suggestion. He clenches his fist, the grasp tight around a small, crinkled paper. "But -"</p><p>"Do what you wanna do with it, it's not my problem anymore." Tsukishima's near-robotic advice rings through his ears. It echoes, much too sharply than Tobio's ears would have preferred. "Now stop calling me. I'm already wasting too much time as it is, I'd rather not spend the rest of it with you."</p><p>Then, with a huff no briefer than a fleeting sigh, the teen ends the call. The beeps fade promptly, taunting Tobio with a deafening hush. As if to mock him more, his phone beams back at him in a preening fashion.</p><p>Tobio glares at his screen, then at the message in his hands. He stays motionless as he reads through the contents. And though short and concisely written as the summer skies, the letter glares at him with a threatening sign.</p><p><em>The worst a man has to live as is a desperate thinker –</em>his father's words sang repeatedly in his ears. Tobio could have easily obeyed the older's adage if he wanted to. Tobio could have easily listened to Tsukishima's curt advice regardless of personal grudges.</p><p>Except, he finds himself unwilling to do any of it. He would love to be able to shrug <em>this o</em>ff and not be a desperate thinker. Had the package not been far less concerning, he would have thrown it out without needing to call Tsukishima in the first place. Tobio could have easily thought of the same course of action at any given day. He may not be as bright and clever as the Tsukishima, but he had a sound common sense to guide him dutifully and without defect.</p><p>This day, however, though no longer crisp and fresh as the morning dawn, is something else entirely. This day is not a day at all, but rather a cool, biting September night - where Tobio and his unsuspecting door receive an eerie <em>gift</em>. It comes in the form of a half-opened box, filled with notes and tapes of unfamiliar songs Tobio is yet to name. At the back of the loosely tied ribbon sits firmly a badly scribbled sentence.</p><p>It reads: <em>The day before the Nationals, Tsukishima Kei died.</em></p><p>And it was all Tobio could fret over for the entirety of the night.</p><p>*</p><p>Kageyama Tobio faces the morning like a worn, underpaid salaryman. Beneath his eyes lay two loose bags. A prominent frown is etched deep into his forehead. The indents of fluffy pillows embed themselves in his nape, Tobio scratching an itch or two from the pinkish marks.</p><p>For a second, as he basks in the steaming tub of his cramped bathroom, he almost forgets about last night's problem. Not that the evening had been anywhere near eventful to deserve profound concerns. But the lack of progress had been quick enough to remind Tobio of his present predicament. That and the gloomy box sitting shamelessly at the top of his bedside table.</p><p>It preens and cackles at him with contained fervour. Even when Tobio transfers it close to the last drawer of his study desk, the heat of its gaze still plagues his mind. The disturbance lingers as Tobio buttons his uniform and steps into the cushioned soles of his sleek shoes. And they follow him, relentlessly, weighing heavier and heavier on his shoulders as he passes through the narrow threshold of his home to the lofty gates of his school.</p><p>Short of sleep and good milk, the dusty, mundane ambience of the place had demotivated him even more. He was a jaded student who acted as if he'd reviewed a week's worth of materials – when in truth he'd only ever skimmed through the pitiful handwriting of his classmate's notes.</p><p>Tobio laments on his wasted time like a ghoulish passerby on the verge of throwing a tantrum. The displeasure is evident in his face, the tiredness even more so. But Tobio could not find it in himself to mutter a curse through his parched lips. Worse, his body did not seem too enthused to keep up with his already whirring mind. It was bad enough that he bumped into a total of three posts on his way to the campus, but he stupidly had the misfortune of slipping once too. All of it transpired within the span of an hour. Downright pathetic, he knows.</p><p>"Jeez, why do you look like that? Did somebody die?"</p><p><em>Die</em>. The word lilts and resounds ruthlessly in his ears. Tobio scowls at the sudden appearance of the voice and baulks defensively. His steps stagger, the jolt in his veins sending him forward. Luckily, a bony arm catches him just on time.</p><p>"Wha- <em>Oi</em>, be careful!" Hinata's startled yelp chides. Tobio answers with a grumbled thanks.</p><p>The small, timid gesture is enough to frighten an already stunned Hinata and so he begins, albeit charily, "A-are you okay? Do you need help? Did -"</p><p>"I'm fine." Tobio replies to him curtly, careful to not slip into another stumble. His sight likes to think otherwise though. It blurs, glazed with a haze that instantly clears up as the black of his eyes land on a speck of gold among waves of tanned tresses. He blinks, three times and counts the beat of his heavy breathing. Boosted by the sudden peak of impulse, Tobio straightened his body and let his heels scrape against the bland tiles of the entryway.</p><p class="">Tsukishima stands a mere foot away, not too out of grasp but still far too distant for his liking. If Tobio hastens his pace he may be able to catch up to the teen and confront him about the damned package. As the crowd begrudgingly part for him, Hinata's worried calls bellowing through the idle morning, Tobio instead finds himself accosted by a strong pull of hesitation. </p><p class="">His strides screech to a saunter, Tsukishima's slack silhouette transforming into a detailed version of the boy. Tobio imbibes the clarity with a tinge of surprise. The clench of his fists loosen and the folds of his temple flatten.</p><p>There, among the flood of sleepy, uncaring students with not a zeal in their limbs, stands out an eerie difference. He wears a headphone too big for his head. The tight creases of his pants are bunched up above his ankles, where glimpses of red flush peek through his clean white socks. He appears well-dressed even with his glasses laid askew atop the bridge of his nose, chin and chest graced with unparalleled poise. When Tobio stares at Tsukishima, he almost forgets the mass of people that bump into him in annoyance. The only thing he sees is a bored, absentminded boy, a huge bandaid splayed across the front of his cheek.</p><p>Tobio catches sight of the bluish bruise beneath the male's lashes and struggles to utter a single syllable about them. There's a disquieting silence as he invades Tuskishima's space. An audible hitch makes it way past his throat, mouth slightly agape as he surveys his teammate's appearance once again. His wordless noise alerts Tsukishima into gazing back.</p><p>"What?" The blonde greets sharply. He turns his gangly limbs and faces Tobio's nonplussed expression. With his open stance, Tobio gets a clearer view of his swollen cheek.</p><p>"You..." Tobio starts. The edges of his lips tremble faintly from the shock of seeing Tsukishima wince as he talks. "Did you -"</p><p><em>Tsukishima Kei died. Tsukishima Kei died. Tsukishima Kei died. </em>All at once, the words blast into his eardrums. They ring, faster and faster until the repetition shrilled. Tobio heeds to the sound and feels his chest thump vigorously. The beats pound and whine, crawling closer and closer to his heaving lungs -</p><p>"<em>Ack -</em>Tsukishima! What happened to your face?! Did you get in a fight?"</p><p>-before finally, they quell. It takes Tobio a minute before he notices Hinata's presence. With a slow, painstaking recline, he lets himself exhale a sigh of relief. For once, he actually appreciates Hinata's untimely disruptions. Tobio lets the boy probe for questions as he ganders absently at the Tsukishima's bandaged knuckles. And though he feels perturbed, he composes himself to appear calmer in front of the other's questioning gaze.</p><p>Tobio is aware he's acted almost out of character. Tobio himself finds it odd to be this disconcerted over Tsukishima's state. At any given day, Tobio would have passed it off as mere teenage boy behaviour. Tsukishima may not be the type to get involved in senseless squabbles but he was more than capable of pissing people off to guarantee one. Frankly, Tobio wouldn't put it past him.</p><p>The problem is, today is not quite like any other day. A suspicious package sits in the narrow compartment of his drawer. A paper with a stomach-churning message written on its centre lounges innocently beneath his mirror. And now, the subject of its content shows up with blue cheeks and knuckles.</p><p>"It's none of your business," Tsukishima answers with a cutting tone. He speaks lowly with bleak demur, the arch of his shoulders tensing under Hinata's scrutiny. When he dares a step backwards, Hinata follows suit and urges him to speak. When he dares a step forward to threaten, Hinata stays rooted in his spot and badgers him for a reply. </p><p>Unflagging and unabated, the ceaseless back and forth goes on. Hinata makes use of his greatest tactic, firing questions after questions with unrelenting speed and unabashed tact. Still, Tsukishima doesn't cave in. Though, he's surprisingly not as evasive of the ginger's approaches as he would on a daily basis.</p><p>Seeing as today seems to be anything but a normal occurrence, Tobio surmises it's not much of a perplexing mystery. Nothing is in <em>ordinary </em>order. </p><p>Tobio ponders at the realisation while Hinata's screeching reprimands fade into background noise, the following harrumphs and sighed dodges of Tsukishima also falling on deaf ears.</p><p>What replaces the teen's mind instead is a bigger concern. Tobio prides himself for his admirable control over his emotions (they range too bluntly with sparse intervals in between). He thought simply about things and acted without hesitation. Now, however, he quietly takes in the entirety of Tsukishima's elusive figure, and finds himself contemplating - a deliberate choice worth noting. The thoughts that meander in his mind had been pertinacious because of it. The worry grates and pokes, setting up a turmoil that preyed too easily on his conscience.</p><p>Should he say anything? Will Tsukishima even believe him? Is Tobio in any right to demand a reason? - rather, why should Tobio even care?</p><p>"Like I said, it's <em>none </em>of your business." Tsukishima cuts through his musings with a piercing tone. Meaner than usual. More distrustful that normal. Despite the unkind response, Hinata appears unaffected. His brows arch and knit, fright and panic written in his face as he examines Tsukishima's slightly bloated lips.</p><p>"But-"</p><p>The blonde interrupts him with the click of his tongue. "Listen, I'm fine. Stop making a fuss and go back to thinking about your own problems." As he grips tightly on the strings of his bags, bare fingers chafed and calloused, Tsukishima begins again, "I think with the Nationals coming up and you failing your maths, you might need the worry more than I do."</p><p>Hinata bellows an indignant protest. His skin flushes with a mad shade of red, clearly affronted by the offhanded remark. Like a naive, guileless teen, he reacts just as Tsukishima planned. It's enough to distract the shorter, but not enough for Tobio to fall victim to the male's ploy.</p><p>He assumes Hinata's position, a subdued impulse to pry. His fast advances clatter as he chases after Tsukishima. And when he fails to muster up the courage to call out his name, Tobio settles with grabbing the teen by his elbow. His force is light enough to not cause pain, but his motions still jostle Tsukishima into high awareness.</p><p>"What?" Tsukishim grits his teeth this time. He looks more annoyed than before, taut posture bristling in distaste. Tobio loosens his grip around his arm as if burnt by the scalding fury in the taller's eyes.</p><p>"T-" Tobio clears his throat. At the back of his mind, he chides himself for acting so recklessly without any sound plan. "About the package..."</p><p>His words are met with a quizzical look. Tsukishima faces him, the arch of his brows paired perfectly with a deep frown. "You're still on about that? I told you, if it didn't have a sender written on it, just throw it away. Why do you care so much about it?"</p><p>
  <em>Why do you care so much about it?</em>
</p><p>"It came with a letter." Tobio answers simply. The quake in his fingertips stays cold. Tsukishima glances back at him, aggrieved. "Something about your -"</p><p>He is cut short by the ear-splitting clamour of the school bell. It reverberates throughout the campus ground, warning the listless marches of their last ten minutes. And just as quickly as they had emerged, the mass of sleepy crowd soon found themselves scampering towards the tall thresholds of the building.</p><p>Tsukishima spares him a quick peek, not one to dilly-dally. "Just throw it out." He repeats again. This time, he doesn't wait for Tobio's disgruntled objection. Lambasted by a wintry blow, Tobio reluctantly lets the conversation fester.</p><p>*</p><p>The bruises are brought up again during practice. And just as predicted, the seniors had been more than livid about it. Tobio feels the tension double as Daichi-san confronts the blond, forthright and stricter than the average father, only to be met with a vague nod and an even vaguer explanation. While the rest kept themselves sane for the most part, he knew they had their own qualms regarding the teen's evasive nature.</p><p>It isn't as if Tsukishima is open about his life. He keeps most of his personal information a secret to the team. Or to anyone else, for that matter. The things they do know have only been observed through dogged interventions and constant interrogation. Hell, Tanaka-san had once joked about how sacred Tsukishima treated his privacy. <em>Like a lock with a lock</em>, he'd teased. Not that it should matter if he didn't wish to share his business, it was his own and he clearly valued the ambiguity he's surrounded it with.</p><p>But oftentimes, Tsukishima's clandestine behaviour rubs them off the wrong way. It puts a thick barrier. He boxes himself in and doesn't say much. When he opens his mouth, his words are scarce. His kindness even scarcer. And when asked, he would deflect. Though soft-spoken and respectful to anyone older than him, he still displays an unwelcoming aura. He had spiky gates, Tobio simplifies. One too tall to climb and too thick to bulldoze your way in. Like a porcupine, prickly when unsettled. And like a fox, skittish and elusive.</p><p>Tobio only knows <em>that</em> much about Tsukishima. And he's had the displeasure of learning it the hard way. He was difficult to read on good days, but on bad days such as this, he is a box of tricks. One surprise after another with not a single conclusion. If Tobio were to read more of him he'd say Tsukishima finds immense satisfaction in misleading people. Truly an exceptional asshole - <em>with issues</em>.</p><p>The whole volleyball populace probably knows this too, seeing as not even Takeda-sensei could cajole Tsukishima into speaking up. And though Nishinoya-san and Tanaka-san acted the most vocal, Sugawara-san and Ennoshita-san the most persistent - it was surprisingly Hitoka who had the most knowledge about the matter.</p><p>"They approached him first." She whispers to them. Her voice is soft and gentle, a little wary as she faces the team's silent stares. Hitoka fidgets in her spot and buries her head in the rigid dips of her shoulders. When Daichi-san assures her of Tsukishima's absence, she regains her volume and speaks a little louder, "I don't know much about it, but I heard some guys from another school cornered him last night."</p><p>"And Yamaguchi?" Sugawara-san brings up, looking more and more alarmed.</p><p>Hitoka raises her head with a tiny squeak and shrugs shakily. "H-he probably had something to do that night so Tsukishima-kun went on ahead."</p><p>Tanaka-san clicks his tongue. He lets out a drawled exhale and buzzes in vexation, a popping vein present in the wide expanse of his forehead. "He's probably going to be the most surprised if he finds out about this."</p><p>"Ah!" Nishinoya-san adds to the dreary strain. His noise catches the attention of his teammates, with Daichi-san the most eager. "Come to think of it, he said he was going to take an absence today. Something about visiting a relative in Tokyo."</p><p>"So until Yamaguchi-kun comes back, we won't get much information." Asahi-san comments. "It would be better if Tsukishima himself explains it to us."</p><p>"But seeing as that's unlikely to happen, we have to stop forcing him to talk." Coach Ukai continues for them. He emerges from behind the gym's door, stiff hands folded against a stiffer chest. "Takeda-sensei has already planned on speaking to him about it again sometime soon. For now, the best we can do is to not pressure him."</p><p>Sugawara-san makes a noise of protest. "Still, shouldn't we at least make sure he's fine?"</p><p>Coach Ukai's gaze softens as he scans the team's faces. From where Tobio stood, he could almost see the folds on the man's bare forehead. His brows loosened gradually and Tobio notices the creases ease by each passing second.</p><p>"I get that you're worried about him." The coach says. He scratches the back of his head and continues, albeit faintly, "To be honest, I didn't expect this kind of behaviour from Tsukishima either. But urging him to speak up about something he clearly doesn't want to talk about will only cause more distress. The only thing we can do is give him some space. It's not the best solution at the moment but it's better than being brash."</p><p>The team reluctantly let go of the issue. Tobio himself didn't feel too assured by the coach's words. Though, he supposes the others feel the maelstrom more freshly than he does. Even Hinata, bright and cheery Hinata, frowned a dissatisfied shade of unwillingness. It's apparent that none of them is fully convinced.</p><p>It's a comfort too inadequate to believe in. Coach Ukai himself did not take offence from their pinched expressions. It was as if he already anticipated their mistrust on the matter and readied himself for the outburst of disagreements.</p><p>He sighs, a bit resigned, and claps his hands together to wave off the gloomy aura drifting close to their downcast heads. "Don't worry too much. Give your teachers some credibility. It's our job to prioritise our students too, you know?"</p><p>But even then the worry persists. For the rest of practice, with Tsukishima nowhere to be seen and questions unanswered, the team played horribly. Services turn sombre, tosses weak and receives clumsy - it’s clear none of the boys are rightfully appeased. Tobio, for once, does not feel unnerved by the slow progress as even he feels sluggish and unsure of his movements.</p><p>Tobio shouldn't be <em>this </em>bothered. Any other day, Tobio would have been the first to heed his coach's words and act normally and without care. At least then, Tsukishima would have one less nosy person to meddle in his affairs - however uncharacteristic or peculiar they may be. A part of him revels in being Tsukishima's least liked teammate because of the advantages he benefits from. But a part of him also supposes responsibility to worry over the other. And now, that responsibility doubled a hundredfold.</p><p>Tobio takes that realisation with him until the end of practice, where frantic heads hang low and gloomy eyes cast peeved glances towards the empty space that Tsukishima often occupied.</p><p>As he counts his list of errands and pats at the ends of his slacks, he can't help but think about it again. The letter in his room or the tapes that hide beneath the glinting covers of velvet ribbon - what could and would happen. It's a situation too provocative to disregard. The endless possibilities disturb him and suffocate him with a discomfiting imagination.</p><p>"Are you okay?" Hinata asks him through the arid silence. He has his uniform half-buttoned, the colour beneath growing paler and paler under the gleam of bright lights. He stares at Tobio, askance. </p><p>Tobio replies, albeit hurriedly, "Fine."</p><p>"Are you sure?" This time, it's Sugawara-san who probes. He sounds softer. Less insistent and more delicate.</p><p>Tobio nods at his direction and folds the last layer of his sleeves. But, as he grasps on the dingy handle of his locker, he feels a sudden inclination to be truthful.</p><p>"Sugawara-san..." He pauses, polite but cautious when he meets the older's eyes. "If someone you knew  only had three months to live, what would you do?"</p><p>Tobio's muscle tightens at his own question. Sugawara-san acts the same, a bit more subtly, and recovers his composure after a minute of stalling. The team stares at him, just as winded. One after another, they let out breathy grumbles. Some knackered, others astounded.</p><p>"I-I knew it!" Hinata gasps weakly. "Someone really did die." He says it with a withering expression in his face, close to crying out of sympathy.</p><p>Tobio speedily corrects him with a sound slap to the back of his head. </p><p>"Idiot." He mutters, the energy coming back to him full force. Then, after resolving the pandemonium with a spry nod, he waves his hands to a teary-eyed Asahi-san and slowly turns to face Sugawara-san with an apologetic look (or as apologetic as his perpetually scowling face permitted).</p><p>"I'm asking for a friend." He clarifies to the group. "He found out his grandmother only had a few months to live and -"</p><p>The team collectively sags in relief, their sighs nearly drowning out Hinata's dumbstruck, <em>"You have a friend?"</em></p><p>Tobio takes the time to respond unkindly to Hinata's innocent jab. He sends a pinch, painful enough to get his threat across. It effectively shuts Hinata up and catches Sugawara-san's full attention. He stands between the two, a hand clasped firmly around Tobio's shoulder.</p><p>"If it were me, I'd spend the rest of the remaining time with them." Sugawara-san answers. Short and simple.</p><p>Tobio hums, intrigued. "But what if you could do something about it?"</p><p>"That's not really the question is it?" Sugawara-san supplies for him. "You don't know if that's what they want you to do or not."</p><p>Tobio shakes his head in agreement. He makes a sound, no louder than the incessant buzzing of lightbulbs hovering above them.</p><p>"What they want me to do...?" The younger parrots. His stance shifts, the weight of pressure waning off as he mulls longer over his senior's words. Despite the obscurity, Tobio finds himself instinctively feeling lighter and lighter. He already anticipates Sugawara-san to come up with an answer for his problems.</p><p>"I don't want to assume anything but, if your friend thinks there's nothing else to do then maybe it's best to let it go."</p><p>Then, should Tobio do the same with Tsukishima?</p><p>The older's advice sits close at the forefront of his memory. It stays fresh, like a morning bloom on a blazing summer day, ready to repeat if Tobio so much as pause and still in his steps.</p><p>They bother him to his walk home, where he spends the majority of the evening struggling to keep the gears in his mind at bay. As he parts ways with Hinata, the boy not having heard a single unambiguous answer from Tobio and Tobio not having said much but a halfhearted farewell to Hinata, the whir stayed constant. And despite the urge to curse and snap at it, Tobio had opted instead to kicking at the dusty pavements. He steps and skips on a few rocky pathways but never strayed from the muddled lines.</p><p>For a while, the trek to his home is undisturbed. It feels relieving to gaze absently at his silhouette on the billowing reeds. The street lamps flicker and the bugs flutter their wings but his surroundings remain quiet. Not another problem or package left to loiter and lurk in the darkness.</p><p>It's when Tobio rounds up another corner, short of nothing but unsuspecting, that the tranquillity of his venture ends to a jarring halt. The beats in his lungs squeak and hitch, accosted by a strong gust of wind. It knocks him off his feet and pushes him against the vines of a decrepit wall. He stumbles, knees faltering as he registers Tsukishima's lonely figure from behind the ledge. He doesn't know why he hid, but a part of simply felt compelled to do so.</p><p>He stays planted in his spot even as he hears the mocking cackles of arriving teenagers. For three seconds, he counts his breath and dares another peek behind the grassy brims of the wall. Almost instantly, his eyes dart across Tsukishima, the black of his eyes dilating as he sees the space around the boy fill with stalking shadows.</p><p>"You just can't get enough of us, can ya?" He hears one of them say. Tobio leans further and sees a bald male leering at Tsukishima. He's a few inches shorter than the other, but a great inches broader than Tsukishima's spindly legs combined. Tobio prays, <em>prays</em>, the male would let the comment pass.</p><p>Sure enough, the blonde does the opposite. He snarks back at his unwanted company, churlish and upfront, "Don't be too flattered, <em>baldie</em>. My house just happened to be in the same direction as yours. Judging as how you're so eager to talk to me, I'm guessing you're the one who can't get enough."</p><p>The short male hisses at the insult. He chuckles, deep and gravelly, the crack of his knuckles chiming well to the timed snickers of his friends. <em>More like followers</em>, Tobio inwardly corrects.</p><p>"I've been 'round this part of the alley for more than a decade –but no one has pissed me off more than you did just now, <em>kiddo</em>."</p><p>Tobio recoils in distaste. He ponders, almost distantly, of the countless times Tsukishima has irked him and a few other people. Daichi-san had warned Tsukishima about it. He'd nagged the younger for his cheeky misbehaviours before, had even reproached the younger about his brazen tongue and caustic jests. <em>It'll invite unwanted trouble</em>, Daichi-san had said. Looking back, Tobio thinks the probability wasn’t too much of a farfetched premonition. </p><p>Tuskishima isn’t one to openly welcome disaster. But he sure does a great job of creating one.</p><p>"Why, thank you. I shall forever wear that title as my crown."</p><p>And right now, Tobio already half-expects Tsukishima's mean mouth to wreak havoc.</p><p>The prediction happens in an instant. Tobio hears the quaint screech of worn sketchers and almost feels the collision of a fist against a wall – Tsukishima dodging just on time to let the impact hiss and ricochet.</p><p>"I have to say, your punches are getting stronger. But I think it could use some speed, <em>senpai</em>."</p><p>
  <em>Dear god, does he ever shut up?</em>
</p><p>Apparently he does, as moments later he gets a swift kick to the shin, force rough enough to silence him. It made his body vibrate, Tsukishima failing to hide the flinch in his bones. He retreats, shoulders against a nearby fence as he nurses the ache in his leg. A deafening stillness springs in between the spaces of his pause. It tarries. The silence festers then morphs into a slow, dreadful resignation.</p><p>The cacophony it bore was only muffled by the shrieking din of a bat— one Tobio peered at with a pensive stare.</p><p>"You want speed?" The unnamed boy taunts. He raises his elbows, high and proud, where the glint of his rings wrap itself around the bat's silver handle. "I'll be sure to send it your way you piece of sh -"</p><p>Three strides. Tobio acts on impulse and sprints fast enough to pull Tsukishima out of trouble in three, perfectly coordinated strides. In his reckless run, he took with him a strong rush of air. One that he uses to his advantage. The turmoil his interruption had created dipped in the grimy indents of dampened soil. The ends of his toes brimmed with uncontained zeal and the tips of his fingers burned with unwavering tenacity.</p><p>Now thrown into the blonde's troubles, Tobio faces the delinquents head-on. He remains composed even as the bat stops close to his ears, its splinters chafing his chin and carving a wound in his flesh. Tobio scans the scene up close and finds that the bald teen had dithered out of shock, consequently curbing the hit midair.</p><p>"Wha-<em>What</em>  the hell are you doing here?" Tsukishima chides through numbed teeth. He looked almost close to exploding, the edge of his tone laden with frustration.</p><p>Tobio readily holds his wrist, not bothering to entertain the blonde's protests as he tightens his grip. Without sparing another glance, he pulls on the boy's body and dashes onto the opposite direction. The rest of Tsukishima's offenders could only yelp in shock as Tobio expertly manoeuvres his way out of their sight.</p><p>He doesn't stop even when he the shouted profanities thrown their way turn into a pleasant hush. Tobio continues to lead Tsukishima to a maze of alleys. Each time he hears distant scrambling, he turns to another corner – then to another, and another until finally, Tobio stumbles at the front gates of an abandoned graveyard.</p><p>"Couldn't you have chosen a better location?" Tsukishima gripes, breath out of sync. His knees are folded, four handbreadths above the ground, and the side of his palms stick close beneath his chin.</p><p>Tobio glares at him from below, where he laid slack against a stack of grubby bricks. "You're welcome, by the way."</p><p>Tsukishima grumbles back a meek, "Didn't ask for your help."</p><p>*</p><p>The rain started to pour heavily by the time they made their way to an empty shed. It was close to the graveyard's shabbiest part, a mere feet away from a trail of sad-looking tombstones.</p><p>Filled with shrubs and tall grasses, the forgotten cemetery looks every bit haunted. From the desolate hollows betwixt the humming trees to the creaking clicks and ticks of the wooden tracks – it’s clear the place is a deserted version of its perhaps more vibrant self. Funny, if Tobio were to imagine a cleaner scenery for such a forlorn place, he would still find it livelier than <em>this</em>. Poorly managed. Miserable. Hapless and <em>unlived</em>. Almost like death itself had reared the graveyard as his personal garden.</p><p>Tobio would not be too surprised if a vengeful ghost comes their way. Not that they actually existed. He'd long known the dead stay dead –has never even thought of them as a myth. His father had been adamant about instilling it in his mind that apparitions didn't exist and that supernatural creatures were just a load of ludicrous crap. <em>A cheap way to scare brats into coming home early.</em></p><p>Tobio as a kid would have gladly gone home after the last ring of the school bell even without the presence of a supposed ghost nearby. Grown Tobio would have readily done the same. With how eerily settled and unmoving Tsukishima acted, Tobio couldn't help but think this may be the first he'd found himself stranded because of a ghostlike entity. It certainly did not help that Tsukishima's pallid and lacklustre complexion made him look like one.</p><p>"Stop staring you creep." The phantom says, small and wilted under the gaze of a cloudy skyline. </p><p>"You're shivering." Tobio comments. He gawks at the other's crouched form, a stark contrast to his often snobbish demeanour. He had his knees folded tight against his chest. His arms, though less twitchy, laid anxious across his quivering shins. If Tobio were to pry further, he'd be able to see the tremble behind the blonde's farce show of indifference.</p><p>"Good observation, detective." Tsukishima drawls. "But I must inform you it's nowhere near necessary to add that little detail."</p><p>Tobio huffs, less and less amused. "You really like to invite trouble, don't you?"</p><p>"It's not my fault they can't keep up with the quick wits." His company reasons plainly. "A bunch of cowards, they are."</p><p>"Maybe if you just shut your mouth, we wouldn't be here by now."</p><p>"You came of your own volition. How's that my fault?"</p><p>Without conscious thought, Tobio finds himself saying, "I couldn't just leave you there."</p><p>"Well, thanks for the concern." Tsukishima hums dryly. He pursed his lips, the need to remind Tobio about his unneeded intervention left unsaid.</p><p>They stay quiet for a while, soaking in the dim view of the place. The rain spills daggers and pierces through the dingy rooftop. A thunderous clap follows suit to each fleeting beat that bounces against the margins of the wooden pillars. One drop meant two claps, some timid, others strident. For each tap, they watch a streak of lightning dart across the unlit horizons. And all at once, they draw on the grey clouds. Darker tints on the smoothened edges and lighter blues alongside the scant rifts. Much like gods at war. Blinking promptly then casting shadows. Again and again, they play with the illumination of the sky.</p><p>"Why didn't you run away in the first place?" Tobio asks a minute later, having grown tired of witnessing the same view. He sits, more laidback than Tsukishima's curled back and restive fingers.</p><p>"Why did you follow me?" Tsukishima asks in return, just as doubtful as his raised shoulders.</p><p>Tobio inadvertently flushes at the question and stammers a frail reply. "I-I just happened to pass by the scene. Don't feel special."</p><p>Tsukishima snorts at the lack of bite in his tone but he doesn't say anything to contribute to the growing stillness. Instead, he nibbles on his lips and bites on the insides of his cheeks to calm his trembling body. Tobio notes the way his ears perk and redden in agitation. To his dismay, he even sees the lobes shudder on their own.</p><p>"Why were they bothering you?" Tobio tries as a form of distraction. Without the warmth of dry fabric, he too finds himself growing colder. He's faring much better than Tsukishima though, having enough strength to pocket his hands and fiddle with the strap of his dead phone.</p><p>"<em>Hoo</em>?" The boy grins blandly, teeth chattering. Much to Tobio's disappointment, he still held a spiteful snark in his words, "Is the King concerned about me? <em>Me? A commoner</em>? Have I done something to warrant such attention, your grace?"</p><p>"Shut up!" Tobio's heeled soles stomp on the ground. His torso leans close to Tsukishima's side, fists clenched around the rustic details of the backrest.</p><p>Almost immediately, Tuskishima recoiled to his part of the bench. He scrunches his nose in disgust and warns, "<em>Oi</em>, you'll disturb the dead."</p><p>Tobio blinks, dumbly. As he glides back to the other end of the seat, an amused scoff escapes from his sealed lips, "Yeah right, as if they can hear us."</p><p>Tsukishima sits quietly for a few seconds. He plays with the loose ends of his bag's strap and unconsciously rolls them around his fingers. The blonde looks to be in deep contemplation, thinking about anything and everything. He keeps on thinking and thinking and thinking that Tobio almost feels his existence is forgotten. Though, on a daily basis, he <em>does</em> feel ignored by the other.</p><p>"I wonder..." He starts. And the wispy sigh he gives jostles Tobio into astute cognizance. "If they do."</p><p>"What else should they need to hear?" He asks in response, suddenly invested.</p><p>Tobio, for the most part, is never the type of guy to amuse himself with philosophical musings. He prefers easily understood ramblings –the simplified ones that often talk about the perfect angle for a toss, or the most efficient way to grow taller. He doesn't wander too close to things that he finds conflicting, reclusive and enigmatic –a criteria that Tsukishima himself would find befitting of his character.</p><p>Yet, once in a while he entertains the ambiguity. He doesn't take much pleasure from the aftermath but he does gain meaningful insights as remuneration. So Tobio half-anticipates that this instance would at least offer him something interesting.</p><p>But he's met instead with a huge disappointment when Tsukishima simply shifts in his place and shrugs, "I guess they don't want to bother with us anymore."</p><p>Tobio deflates visibly when Tsukishima doesn't add anything else. Perhaps, this was not one of <em>those</em> instances.</p><p>"<em>Ah</em>, the rain stopped." Tsukishima muttered. Swiftly, he lets his legs fall down to the muddied floor. As he stands, towering over the dancing reeds, he gives Tobio a cursory glance. "You coming or what?"</p><p>Tobio gawps. The thrill in his bones dwindles into a pitiful groan, something Tobio ignores as he stands up on two tired feet. He stares ahead the clearing and finds the sky lightening up. It holds an indistinct shade but it’s no longer as gloomy as when Tobio had first gazed at it. For the remainder of the late evening, phones either muted or drained, they walk in complete and awkward silence.</p><p>Once they arrive at their respective alleys, the awkwardness slowly fades away.</p><p>"You don't have to do that again." Tsukishima reminds him.</p><p>Tobio knits his brows, shaken. "As if I want to." He pulls on the strap of his bag and prepares to leave. "Next time, you're on your own."</p><p>"And don't tell them." The blonde replies hurriedly. It sounded frantic enough that Tobio found himself peering back.</p><p>"They'll worry, you know." He says. "Besides, they're going to find out soon enough."</p><p>Tsukishima hums as if meaning to accept his fate. Something akin to fondness settles in his eyes. Tobio blinks quickly to make sure it wasn't a delusion. </p><p>"Frankly, I didn't expect anyone to follow me around. I <em>especially</em> did not expect you."</p><p>"I told you it was an accident." Tobio grouses. "I just happened to be there at the right moment."</p><p>"Well, I could have handled that situation myself. But thanks, I guess." Tsukishima sends him a small, effortless wave. His shadows doubled under the post's unblinking lights, the height lessened only by a noticeable limp in his movement.</p><p>"Whatever." Tobio returns. He stays rooted for a little while and watches as Tsukishima's lanky figure retreats into the dimness of the open street. With a lighter weight in his chest, he finally departs.</p><p>*</p><p>When Tobio arrived late, his mother greeted him with a seething smite to the back and a mean glare that lasted until dinner. He was given a less serious punishment from his father and a teasing snicker from his sister. All in all, the experience had been easily forgotten.</p><p>After a short shower and a brief review of his notes, Tobio decides to retire for the evening. His day had been nothing short of bizarre, so he finds it more than fitting to indulge in a long sleep and hope that his alarm clock would do the rest for him.</p><p>If he wakes up late, then tomorrow-Tobio would just have to deal with it.</p><p>For now, Tobio is free of duties and homework. He wallows in the comforts of his bed, lids ready to fall and sleep the night away -</p><p>The plan is cut short by the sudden reminder of a package. The realisation dawns on Tobio, much too keenly that he finds himself twisting and turning in his sheet before finally, he decided to hoist himself up and ransack through his drawers.</p><p>The compartments are cramped with unopened letters. Some organized cds are stacked up against the farthest edge, covered only by older sets of vhs tapes – nostalgic pieces of stuff his sister had forcibly made Tobio keep for her. He rummages through the pile and huffs triumphantly when his finger lands on a familiar dent.</p><p>Tobio pulls the box out with unexpected care. He gives it a deeper inspection, turning the package at different angles before untying the ribbons. The letter stapled on its back rustled but Tobio pays it no mind for fear of seeing the disturbing message displayed anew. He focuses instead on the cassettes and randomly pulls one out.</p><p>With his sister's small, golden walkman, Tobio takes a sudden plunge and plays an untitled track.</p><p>"<em>Are you there?"</em>  It greets, slow and chary.</p><p>Tobio replies with a drawled hum and makes his way back to the bed.</p><p>"I'm here." He greets back, feeling a little silly.</p><p>As if on cue, the track begins to play faster. It starts with a catchy beat, quaint enough for Tobio to hear his fingers tap along to the melody. Seconds after, it follows with a lulling voice. The same voice that first spoke to Tobio trough the wiry background. Again and again the voice hums, then sings, sometimes with a lilt and sometimes with a fading quiver before picking up on a merrier tone.</p><p><em>Light</em>. All that Tobio thinks of the music is <em>light</em> and <em>breezy</em> – not a worry to seep through the voice's lips. <em>A promise</em>. Tobio describes it as a promise. Something about the comfort it sings just suited a promise well.</p><p>Sighing, he lets the music reverberate into his ears. Softly, the song repeats. And sure enough, Tobio falls into a deep, restful sleep.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>At evenfall, Tobio meets Tsukishima. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The setting is foreign, a windy rooftop to brighten up an empty background. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tobio absorbs his surroundings and sees the beam of twilight gaze back at him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>From afar, he hears a voice, too frail, too fickle, dance around the dreary air. It grazes Tobio's nape, ghostly teeth nibbling on the bumps painted across his flushed skin. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Do you think the sky will catch me if I fall?" The voice asks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tobio cranes his neck, enthralled. "I don't know." He answers honestly. "Do you?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No." The voice smiles. "But I want to test it." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"How?" Tobio asks, curious. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>A look. Too distant to read, and suddenly Tsukishima's face comes into full view. He stands, barefoot, in a shirt too loose for his shoulders and a short too small for his legs. With a swift glide, quicker than the whistling air, Tsukishima emerges on top of a rusting ledge. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You'll fall." Tobio warns.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The blonde doesn't answer. He faces Tobio, face brighter than Tobio has ever seen him glow. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I hope the sky catches me on time." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Coy but defiant. Tsukishima stretches his arms free and leaps beyond the ambits, whisked by the force of winter winds.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Down and down he goes, but the sky never catches him.</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Tobio wakes up, taking with him a dream too vivid to discard. He pants, desperately out of air, and hugs the sheets closer to his heaving chest.</p><p>The number in his clock ticks. </p><p><em>2:00 AM</em> - it reads.</p><p> </p><p class="">*</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. TRACK V</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>there may be errors ahead. i hope you'll have a good read &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>*</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Stop coming home late, you're worrying mom.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>read, 9:52 pm.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>*</em>
</p><p>Limbs limp and skittish as a newborn baby, Tobio welcomes a new dawn. Yesterday's clothes are in disarray below his frosty toes – pillows damp from undried locks and blankets wrinkled beyond recognition. What was once a taciturn routine withered away, now disarranged and fraught with danger. His mind is in shambles, heart addled with a vile inkling and indefinite apprehension. Tobio begins to grasp on whatever surviving normalcy his morning had to offer.</p><p>But nothing, not even the warm greetings of the sunlight or the feeble twitters of the birds above could pull him out of his hushed trance. Even when he hears the clatter of his mother's clumsy slips, his sister's crass swearing from the grim hallway and his father's blasted television speakers – Tobio feels undisturbed. What sits at the pit of his stomach is rotting miso soup. The horror it carried stirred and rolled, meandering shamelessly until they crawl, bit by bit, to the narrow trails of his throat.</p><p>As Tobio lifts his trembling feet and plants them harshly on the carpeted planks, he senses the trepidation draw close to his stiff tongue. Briskly, he lets his soles drag him to the grinning hinges of his bathroom, where remnants of rationality are emptied and flushed down the drain. He stares down at the swirls of bile, dispirited. The hue of disgust totters in his mind, Tobio not having a shred of clarity left to blink the images away.</p><p>He ambles, spine cracking, toward the sheen of his sink's rustic mirror. With two timid pats, Tobio cradles a pair of darkening blues beneath his eyes. They dangle ridiculously, covered only by the long tips of his lashes. And for once, he finds gratitude in their lavish length. His sister's jests be damned. He knew the woman envied them, the taunts she utter laced with nothing but bitterness. It's good that Tobio adores them just fine – enough not to believe the older.</p><p>"Stop staring at your reflection." Mother's biting words booms through the misty breeze. She leans by the lofty frames of the exit, two slim hands the width of Tobio's slumber glued on each hip. "Clean up your room and fix your bed. You don't usually wake up this early, so make use of the extra time to help me with breakfast."</p><p>"I'm not eating," Tobio informs, apace. His mother stares at him with an abysmal squint, the size of her two, hazel orbs widening by the rising seconds.</p><p>Promptly, his mother holds his puffy cheeks and rests her forehead against Tobio's. "<em>You</em>? Not eating? Are you sick? Is your head alright?"</p><p>Tobio twitches. He shakes his head and frees them from his mother's touch. Thoughtlessly, a part of him begins to yearn for the loving embrace of her lemon-scented palms. "<em>Okasan</em>, I'm fine. The meal last night just tasted a little weird."</p><p>"What!" His mother gasps, crinkling the strawberry patterns of her new apron. She retreats. The weak stumbles of her steps make a feeble patter. "Is my healthy son sick because of my food? Have I failed as a mother?"</p><p>It's an exaggeration. Tobio is awfully aware of his mother's frantic habits, has even heard father grouse about in a subtle, nervous way. It takes quite a bit of patience and an extensive amount of cheers to stop his mother from sulking. The aftermath could be jarringly bothersome if Tobio doesn't move fast to erase the forming pout in her face.</p><p>And so, with a sweet and mellow tone, he mumbles, "It was just one dinner. I must have eaten too much rice and it upset my tummy."</p><p>Just as speedily as the worry arose, his mother's expression wanes into a calmer look. She blinks for a few good seconds. The strings of hair pinned behind her ears fall flat atop her slackening shoulders. Suddenly, as if the gears in her brain had functioned again, she gives a heavy pat on the dip of Tobio's waist. Her gaze turns sour, a feigned smile plastered across her darkening complexion. </p><p>"Well then, if my son feels fine and dandy, he should help me in the kitchen, <em>hm</em>?"</p><p><em>Ah</em>, the joys of having an exploitative mother. Still, as Tobio begins to stroll towards the kitchen island, riddled with thoughts of uncertainty and consternation, he finds comfort in his mother's company. He even gains energy from the unbridled demands and raspy hums. The buzz of her whispered drones bear a tone of their own, akin to the wiry, husky singers Tobio's father listens to every Sunday morning. And though his breath feels stilted, and sight muddled, Tobio finds that struggling over a piece of riceball proved to be a pleasant distraction.</p><p>He's calmed down now. The jitters in his nape and fingers unclasped, freed from the clench of gnawing unease.</p><p>Tobio cherishes the short duration of repose and revels in the singing of his mother. Imperfect as they may be, he finds himself swaying to her melody. Slowly and quietly, the bleary thrums of his nightmares descended into a newfound peace. Where nothing but his mother's lullabies could keep him placid.</p><p>"You guys look stupid." His sister comments moments later, sleepwear dishevelled and tresses unkempt. She regards them with a disapproving stare – a stare Tobio often likens to sloppy, idle sloths. And when she adds the slightest bit of chuckle in her tone, Tobio passively blinks back in mild amusement.</p><p>"You're stupid." He returns. His sister replies to him with a piercing prod to the ribs.</p><p>The rest of the early morning explodes into an uncontrolled ruckus. </p><p>By the third hour, Tobio finally fixed his bed and beleaguers her sister into giving him a free ride. He pleads to her, eager to arrive at school and confront the bane of all of his unanticipated suffering. With it, comes a newly displayed character – one his sister curiously remarks on, "Are you sure you're not sick? You're usually not this avid when you go to school."</p><p>It’s a pure, earnest question. Tobio himself feels no ill-meaning from her sister's words (a rarity he would only find in a goldmine). No mocking remarks about his apparent disinterest in academics either. Just a terse excuse to offer balance to his staggering steps.</p><p>And as much as Tobio wishes to tell her all he feels at the moment, he holds back for fear of acting hysterical. Of course, Tobio wouldn't simply go about revealing to his sister the package that sat in the gloomiest corner of his room. It would be too much of a risk to talk about a fear that had little to no tangible proof. So he comments instead, with shaky determination, how nice her sister's hair looks under the shade of soft sunlight.</p><p>The older sputters back, flushed to the bones and stunned beyond reason. Tobio leaves her with a carefree farewell, as if unbothered by his own, much too eccentric behaviour.</p><p>Now, he walks in haste. Down to the slow inclines of mismatched tiles, up to the imprinted tracks of muddy shoes and finally, at the front of a bland, unpolished door the height of his riveting nerves. He slides it open, skin electrified by the freezing poke of morning dew around its handle.</p><p>"Kageyama-kun?" The air greets him. Tobio looks up in a flash, realising he let his head hang low. When he meets the welcome of an unexpected voice, Tobio's hazy sight lands on Yamaguchi's fazed ones.</p><p>Tobio wants so badly to run at that moment – confronted with the unceremonious realisation that Yamaguchi, a sweet, kind, <em>gentle</em> soul would have the possibility of losing a treasured friend. Tobio thinks, pitifully, how Yamaguchi would be undeserving of such grief, of such <em>loss. </em>Thethought snarls at him, boorishly enough that it knocks Tobio off his place by the entryway with uncrippled force.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" Yamaguchi's voice pulls him back to full attention.</p><p>Tobio stammers, the tip of his tongue falling flat when he sees no glimpse of golden hair.</p><p>"Tsukishima?" He pronounces the name with a wince. A sullen air steadily rises in his lungs, making his throat constrict.</p><p>Yamaguchi looks at him in a slouching sort of fashion. His fingers fall from its place on the threshold, bringing with him two unsure shrugs. "He's not here today."</p><p>
  <em>He's not here today. He's here not today. He's not here.</em>
</p><p>"Oh." Tobio could only gape.</p><p>Yamaguchi smiles at him. "Are you curious?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I heard about it." Yamaguchi begins. He walks past Tobio and leads him to the hall's lonely windows. When Tobio stands beside him, awkward and unsteady, he casts a distrustful glance at the skies.</p><p>"He got into a fight with some of the older kids, right?" The boy states it as a reminder. He huffs, affronted by his own words. "Akiteru-san found out about it and forced him to take an absence. He's a bit of a worrywart, and he <em>really</em> hates seeing Tsukki get hurt."</p><p>"Akiteru?" Tobio parrots belatedly.</p><p>Yamaguchi's eyes light up, lips pulled wide to provide him with an explanation. "His brother." He pauses. "He usually visits home during weekends, but I guess he wanted to see Tsukki right away."</p><p>"Ah." Tobio contributes dumbly. Secretly, he wonders about the other people in Tsukishima's life. "D-did... he tell you about what happened?"</p><p>A deep exhale, long enough to waft through the skipping air. Yamaguchi leans his side against the steel brims and scratches at the hairs on his nape. "I don't really know much - just that Tsukki didn't start the fight. <em>They</em> said something about his dad. Tsukki hates it when people talk about him."</p><p>Tobio chokes on a sharp, painful inhale. His teeth gnash harshly against each other, shock bare in his temple. When Yamaguchi darts his eyes to the unsettled folds of his face, Tobio swiftly covers up his bewilderment with a rough cough.</p><p>It smoothens the confusion evident in Yamaguchi's expression, and the intrigue quickly transforms into a simper. Not quite light but nevertheless consoling. His head lolls, atop the open panes, and regards Tobio with a sage sort of understanding. Fit for an old face beyond his age. Then, freely and knowingly, "I'm glad Tsukki has more people to worry about him."</p><p>Tobio sputters. "W-well, that's to be expected. He's part of the team."</p><p>Yamaguchi chuckles. Dry and dishonest. The edges of his lips pull to a thin, unimpressed line. "Tsukki..." He sighs, almost wistful. "Tsukki doesn't seem to think so." The reluctance stretches. Yamaguchi plays with the cuffs of his sleeves and shifts in a wavering stance.</p><p>"Sometimes I think he doesn't see himself as part of anything."</p><p>Tobio understands. He's seen the boy's lonely figure wilt and retreat enough times than he could count. At school. During practice matches. Stalling and dawdling with no real purpose in his steps.</p><p>Tobio recounts the moments he's seen the boy bask in the void. Behind the net, where his shoulders slump and slacken. In his classroom, dozing off against a desk too narrow for his elbows. Always on his phone. Out of sync. Out of touch. Sometimes he even sees him in the streets, where Tobio chances at his grey and dismal figure, treading nimbly on pavements and stumbling close to a fall each time he absently gazes at the sky. He sticks close to the sidelines, present but never fully <em>there</em>.</p><p>Sometimes, Tobio thinks Tsukishima lives <em>elsewhere</em>.</p><p>Far, far away. Not an inkling of where he'll be next.</p><p>Tobio finds the absence of purpose harrowing. It haunts him, the fear of navigating the vast open seas without aim. Like a stray. Always on the brink of tipping over murky waters and coarse shorelines.</p><p>"But he has <em>you</em>." Tobio adds thoughtlessly as solace.</p><p>Yamaguchi smoothly retorts an opposition, "Doesn't mean he believes that."</p><p>At loss for words to say, Tobio breathes out a tense hum. The small noise it makes travels despondently around them. Pervasive but logy, they scatter through the bustling hallways. And when they stop, as if jilted by the ring of the school bells, the strain loosens.</p><p>Tobio turns his neck to meet the emerging commotion, where a train of yawning students titter about a manga they read or a series they committed to finishing. Their paths vary, some skipping, others lagging, but they all appear in pairs, in clusters. Whether it was a group of hollering kids or sleep-deprived teachers, naturally, they fall into a rhythm. Like a pattern, albeit repetitive. Still, they nurture a space meant to include. Except they never really invite. They never welcome.</p><p>Tobio muses distantly if they're even aware. Or if they only see and hear themselves.</p><p>Acridly, Tobio assumes the latter.</p><p>"<em>Ah</em>. We have an intruder." Yamaguchi's comment chimes sharply, dragging Tobio out of his reverie.</p><p>Tobio, once lost in thought, whips his head to the same direction as Yamaguchi's line of sight. His gaze lands just on time to the bell's second warning that sang flatly in his ears. The surprise stifles him, evincing a coarse and belated gulp as he glares at the so-called intruder.</p><p>With a volume no lower than the fuzzy cacophony below, Tobio utters a name he never expects to say, "Oikawa-san?"</p><p>*</p><p>"What are you doing here?"</p><p>Tobio doesn't dawdle. He confronts the unlikely visitor without any reservation. Hinata, who had the misfortune of bumping into them, skilfully hides behind a frozen Yamaguchi.</p><p>Oikawa cheerily regards them in an attempt to look friendlier. He's dressed in a pompous air greater than the flamboyant flair of his height. When he stands, lax and inviting, his eyes sparkle. Any other girl would have swooned at such a farce display, but Tobio knew better than to be careless.</p><p>With a chary grin and a feigned gentleness, Oikawa proceeds to tease, "Not even a polite welcome? <em>Gee</em>, you crows really know how to scare off your guests."</p><p>"You don't even go here," Tobio replies bluntly. "What are your intentions?"</p><p>Oikawa scoffs. He places a palm on his hip and leans on one leg. "What are you, a school guard?"</p><p>"You–"</p><p>"I think Kageyama-kun simply meant to ask." Yamaguchi interferes, less abrasive. He stands, rigid, mere inches away from the pair. He hides a sweaty Hinata, offering a makeshift shield out of his drooping back. "I-it's not exactly normal to see anyone from another school come creeping around our school grounds. Much less from a volleyball team."</p><p>Oikawa visibly tenses. His posture stays proud but the jitters in his eyes conveyed less confidence. Still, he manages to cover it up with a charming blink.</p><p>"I was looking for someone." He retorts, innocently. The edges of his lips never falter and the curls of his brown locks mock Tobio with a sardonic wave. "But it seems like they're not here at the moment, <em>hm</em>?"</p><p>"Y-you mean Tsukishima?" Nervously, Hinata clarifies.</p><p>Tobio clenched fists unfurl. His heels dip in the rusty patches of the entryway, embedding a heavy mark on the uneven surface. "What do you want with him?"</p><p>"There's something I need to tell him privately." Oikawa supplies. Gruff and surly. Tobio begins to open his mouth to pry, but Oikawa cuts him off effectively with a churlish glower. "And before you ask about it, make sure you understand what <em>privately</em> means first."</p><p>Grunting, Tobio concedes. He lets Yamaguchi gingerly fill in the diffident silence.</p><p>"Tsukki will not attend today." He explains. From behind him, Hinata whispers a startled, <em>"he won't?"</em></p><p>Oikawa stares, a bit more grateful for the younger's amiable tone. "Well then, I'll just have to come again next time."</p><p>"I'll be sure to tell him that." Yamaguchi nods.</p><p>And though reluctant, Tobio tries to do the same. Hinata, more cautiously, follows the gesture.</p><p>"It's nothing urgent but," Oikawa stalls. The flat folds of his pockets crease as he dips his hand to pull out a small piece of paper. "Could you give him my number? I have something of his that I picked up by chance, he must be searching for it now."</p><p>"Couldn't you just give it to us?" Tobio boldly poses.</p><p>"And risk you lots invading his privacy? I have more class than that, Tobio-chan." Oikawa snaps back. The insult is vague, much like a hint that the item he had on his hands had been too valuable to even mention.</p><p>Lacking any reason to give in, Tobio dismisses the temptation to retaliate. He opts for a scowl, one meaning offence without the need for a witty comeback. He'd grown out of the trivial back and forth with the older, and even swore not to give him the pleasure of acting immaturely. But in this instance, Tobio feels a little bit of <em>consideration</em> for Tsukishima's sake. He is, by definition, just a schoolmate. His role in Tsukishima's life is near that of a stranger. Just some high school boy who he happened to play volleyball with. Tobio certainly did not have any right to probe about whatever Oikawa plans to give the blonde.</p><p>Tobio more than understands he is no way entitled to everything Tsukishima does.</p><p><em>Not a part of anything</em>. Just as Tsukishima intends not to be part of Tobio's life, Tobio is not a part of his.</p><p>
  <em>"But you have to be."</em>
</p><p>Out of nowhere a small, feeble voice whispers back at him. It seethes, almost aggrieved. And the indistinct timbre it carries slithers into the tips of Tobio's ears. Plagued with a sound too reminiscent of last night's track, Tobio begins to pant. He tries to discharge as much of the dread as he can without causing panic. And he almost fails horribly. If not for the soft nudge of a shy elbow, Tobio would have crouched down in vexation.</p><p>"Are you okay?" Hinata's question pulls him back into wariness. He cranes his neck at Tobio, the shine of his eyes laden with sincerity. The lull of his voice may be strident for Tobio's ears, less delicate than the yellow pleas of a call Tobio could only recognize as Tsukishima's – but it holds a soothing inflection of its own. A tone Tobio could not help but revel in.</p><p>"Why wouldn't I be?" He entertains, mouth parched.</p><p>Hinata shrugs, eyes glued to the withdrawing lines of Oikawa's shadow. "Lately, you've been looking more and more absentminded. I just don't think you're one to think about things too deeply."</p><p>Tobio prepares himself to correct the other but is shut down by the earnest gaze of hazel gleaming back at him.</p><p>"If you're going through something, you can always tell me." The ginger maunders. He twiddles in his spot, eyes downcast and cheeks tinted.</p><p>"I'm not -" Tobio clears his throat. "I'm fine."</p><p>Hinata doesn't look too convinced. His lips purse as if to say more. But, "If you say so."</p><p>Tobio hums stiffly. <em>I'm fine, </em>he tells to himself. And as he traces the last of Oikawa's silhouette, he lets the phrase echo. Firm and unshaken, the reassurance doubled, moseying in his head like a prayer on repeat.</p><p>*</p><p>Morrow came in a brighter shade of orange. Tobio wakes up to greet it with a stronger resolve. He tidies his room and folds his sheets just right. He buttons his uniform without missing a beat. He roams around the closet without a single slip up in his movement. And when he steals a gander at the same old mirror, he gains more composure. Tobio doesn't spare a single glance at the box beneath his bed. He just knows it sits there, covered in a worn blanket he hasn't used in years, and probably never will.</p><p>This time, Tobio knows for sure, that no one and nothing could stand in the way of his pursuit. Not even Tsukishima himself.</p><p>So he walks with a little skip in his steps. He fumbles and fudges but he doesn't stop. Tobio simply believes not one disruption could easily deter him at the moment. He's doubtless, certain that he'll find the resolution he needs.</p><p>"Tsukki, well, <em>uhm</em> –he took another absence."</p><p><em>Oh</em>, how awfully wrong he was to believe so readily.</p><p>"His brother?" Tobio mutters, drowsy. His teeth grind together, setting up friction the weight of his lurking exasperation. The heaviness press on his groaning lungs. It seeps, the lump of restrained chagrin that he'd kept at bay. Tobio wasn't one to blow off and throw a tantrum, but at that very instant, he could not help but fantasize about the satisfaction of doing so.</p><p>But then to risk his self-control and stomp around without care would stain too much of his reputation. Tobio knows enough to understand that whining petulantly about an unprecedented circumstance would only get him nowhere. Cursing the skies for it would not make Tsukishima magically appear in front him. Still, the rot of apprehension blossoms in his veins. They trickle down to the dips and rise of his spine. To his fuming fingers and well-trimmed nails, hooking itself on the callouses of his palm.</p><p>Frustration seethes in his whole being.</p><p>For this particular morning, Tobio had to be <em>very</em> careful to not let his nerves get the better of him.</p><p>"Don't worry too much. Akiteru-san just wanted to make sure Tsukki takes all the rest he needs."</p><p>Tobio obliges for the sake of his sanity. He bears the horror of his misgivings, takes good care of his thoughts so as to not let them wander freely without notice. At lunch, after having been reprimanded for his inattention, he lets the disquiet settle. Deep in his bones, they rattle incessantly and pester him with troubles after troubles. Needlessly, they even reside in his stomach. Tobio mopes about the affliction in great displeasure.</p><p>"You know..." Hinata ponders loudly during practice. He plays a ball in his hand, roughened pads and bitten nails tapping and drumming on the tip. "I thought it'd be Yamaguchi-kun who'd feel it the most. But you're surprisingly more unnerved about Tsukishima's absence than he is."</p><p>Short of any reasonable explanation, Tobio chooses not to deny. He quirks a brow and folds his arms, huffish. "So what if I am?"</p><p>The shorter stammers before answering honestly, "B-because! It's weird. I thought you guys didn't get along... <em>or something</em>."</p><p>He tells the last of his sentence with a tinge of meekness. He shows a face akin to the bashful girls in Tobio's class. And when he huffs, announcing his early leave from Tobio's space to badger someone else, he traipses with two, sprightly feet. Tobio replies him with a puzzled rumble, whispering surreptitiously, "I <em>have</em> to."</p><p>The voiced suspicion quickly fades after practice, Tobio's serves turning more and more ragged and tosses clumsily falling down to a level fit for a novice. He's not as agile with his untidy thoughts. He scrambles and flounders on things that shouldn't be too difficult for him. Hell, he even fails to receive the ball. It's when Daichi-san finally musters the courage to pause and ask him about his worries that Tobio concedes to the severity of his situation.</p><p>He has a package. The package consists of tracks and arcane notes. Among those notes, is one, queer letter that supposedly assumes his teammate's demise in three months.</p><p>So <em>of course</em>, when he's asked, Tobio almost barks at them in agitation. He could very much do so and still be understood for it. His seniors are caring, the others, though less tactful but still patient - Tobio is fortunate enough to have stumbled upon such a group of people. But at times, their voices become too invasive for his ears. At times, they hover and fret over him relentlessly that he finds no joy in staying silent about it.</p><p>"I'm fine." He tells them in advance. Stern and aloof. He already told them before, and he's sure to repeat it. "<em>I'm fine</em>."</p><p>"No, you're not." Daichi-san insists otherwise. "Take a rest and cool your head off. It's bad enough that we're one member short, so I want you to be in good condition. That can't happen if you don't take care of yourself."</p><p>"But-"</p><p>"Kageyama." This time, it's Coach Ukai who urges him to oblige. He tilts a chin, jabbing a finger behind him, where an empty bench sat. From where Tobio stood, surrounded by the concerned glances of his teammates, he could see Hitoka's small figure resile at the mention of his name.</p><p>Tobio turns his head, agitated, torso brimming with an ache he is yet to fully name. The tug on his legs prickled. Unabatedly, Tobio drags the rest of himself to the lonesome chair. It squeaks from his rash drop and whimpers at the sudden pressure of his weight. Hitoka faintly stutters out a gasp beside him, the clipboard clattering in her hand.</p><p>Something falls from the abrupt motion. Tobio, feeling a bit remorseful, takes the initiative to pick it up for her. When he pinches it between his fingers, his muscles pull to a halt. He catches a glimpse of the boldly inscribed words splattered on the white expanse of the sheet. Intrigued, Tobio marvels at them in hushed fascination.</p><p>"Red herrings?" The letters spell.</p><p>"A misleading clue." Hitoka defines for him. She anxiously peers at Tobio's finger, playing with the edges of her clipboard to appear as unaffected as possible. Tobio hands her the paper and awkwardly encourages her to continue.</p><p>"Like a distraction?"</p><p>Hitoka hums softly in agreement. She sways, the stiffness in her legs waning into a less guarded stance.</p><p>"It's basically a ploy." The girl adds. She pins a strand behind her ear and toys with a shiny pearl earring. "We learned about it in class today. Apparently, it's mostly used in mystery novels. They try to trick the readers with a clue, or a hint and then mislead them to give more tension to the story."</p><p>"How deceptive." Tobio remarks out loud.</p><p>Hitoka smiles, "But it makes the story more interesting, don't you think?"</p><p><em>It's troublesome</em>, is what Tobio likes to think. <em>An unneeded, pointless endeavour that only means to torture.</em> Really, who would ever want to go through an arduous task only to be misled for the applause of the crowd? Tobio finds that bit unsettling. Twists who put too much of it, or even a shred, definitely house a prison cell of its own. But of course, it might just be Tobio's predisposition to hate on anything remotely conflicting. He favours the plain and simple. A road that leads directly to an ending. Personally, he sees no fun in a wild goose chase that only seems to point to a jagged cliff.</p><p>"You don't need to confuse people to make a story work." Tobio surmises, partly invested and half projecting. His own troubles growl at him. Like a wolf baring its green teeth, they prey on his resolve.</p><p>"You <em>do</em> need it!" Hitoka harrumphs, proud then queasy, after having realised the person she's conversing with. "I-I mean...at least from the mystery novels I like to read."</p><p>Tobio's face contorts. "Why would you ever subject yourself to <em>that</em>?"</p><p>The girl giggles out of startled amusement. "It's not that bad. I like the thrill of it. Just when I thought I finally caught on to the author's plans, I get fooled. And so when I feel frustrated, I feel with the characters. As if I were part of the story too."</p><p>"That..." In all honesty, Tobio could absolutely relate. Lately, his life had been feeling more and more like a novel, the mysterious sorts with death and murderers and– oh, <em>oh</em>.</p><p>A happenstance. A stark, much pronounced and perfectly timed instance. Suddenly, Tobio's dogged grit wobbles. It crumbles like a fettered dove. Torn and stripped of its wispy feathers before finally, they wilt and fester –and out comes an epiphany.</p><p>Could it be? It's possible, right? The more that Tobio considers it, the stupider he feels. Still, he thinks it's worth a stain on his pride if it meant he had an <em>alternative. </em>Of course, there's always an <em>alternative</em>. If Tobio thinks about it more deeply, the chances of only having one reason for the package seemed unlikely – close to a faulty estimation, even. The dream he had could mean something else. The package may not at all be a forewarning.</p><p>Tobio stiffens, out of any decibel to choke on because– the package could be a <em>threat</em>.</p><p>Initially, he'd thought of it as one. Then the dream -<em>nightmare</em> happened and the cogs in his brain had all but rusted. Now, however, he finds the idea worth reconsidering.<br/>
<br/>
It gives him hope, in some twisted sense or another. The thought of a different possibility settled well with a less mournful <em>at least</em>. <em>At least</em> it wasn't as what Tobio had dreamed. <em>At least </em>there's something, <em>someone else</em> to put at fault. </p><p>Now <em>that</em>, Tobio could singularly do something about. </p><p>"You must be tired." Not so surprisingly, Tobio's ventures to the oblivion are once again interrupted. The obtrusion is subtle. Almost as if it had been unsure to nudge Tobio out of his impervious bubble. </p><p>Tobio dallies before tracing Hitoka's hazy shape through clouded lenses. He blinks the weariness away and, "Sorry. I didn't get enough sleep last night."</p><p>Hitoka clumsily gesticulates an assurance. "It's okay! It happens sometimes." She sighs, the frost in her shoulders thawing. "It's a little unusual to see you slip up but I guess even great players have their off days. Although, I'd like it if you don't push yourself too much. It might be frustrating for you to have to sit on this bench rather than play, but it's just one missed practice. Make sure to let yourself rest sometimes, Kageyama-kun."</p><p>Fluttering, Tobio's chest combusts with warmth. He nods, more bashful than Hitoka's fidgeting, and mumbles a sincere thanks. They remain that way even until the end of practice. Heads glued to the balls that floated mid-air. To and fro. Like birds of the sky, they made the towering roofs as their own. Tobio focuses on a ball Hinata has set astray. Absently, he draws two wings on each of its curved lines. </p><p>Again and again, until a flock of doves dispersed through the air. He's not quite sure why he hadn't thought of crows. But his mind supposes none of it really mattered.</p><p>"Kageyama-kun?" </p><p>It's Asahi-san who approaches him this time. Much like Hitoka, he acts gingerly, if not more skittish than the younger. Tobio heeds to his call with the raise of his lids. He fixes himself, knees that once lolled straightening. </p><p>Asahi-san beckons him with the slight wave of the palm. "Would you like to help me tidy up?"</p><p>Left with nothing to do, Tobio willingly obliges. He stands with creaking knees and curled fingers. And as he nears Asahi-san, the stiffness turns pliant. </p><p>They lounge in one of the dimmer corners, Tobio piling the unused balls in order and Asahi-san wiping on the used ones. Silence had been their most prominent company. A tranquil space that even Tanaka-san's cackle could not invade. </p><p>Snug and pleasant - it was to Tobio's dismay, that it didn't last very long.  </p><p>"My mother died when I was young." Asahi-san says out of nowhere. </p><p>A drop of still silence. Then, "O-oh. I'm, <em>uhm</em>, I'm sorry to hear that."</p><p>Asahi-san turns to him, just as nonplussed by his own words. "Sorry, it's just...<em>er</em>, I couldn't help but think about what you said yesterday." He pats on a sore spot below the stray hairs of his loose bun. "I guess the question stuck with me."</p><p>"I-" Tobio struggles. He sniffs weakly to hide his bemusement.<em> I don't know what to say,</em> he wants to admit.</p><p>Luckily, Asahi-san chooses to continue for him. "It's okay." He comforts. The ends of his lashes flap languidly, contemplative. With a heavy sigh, he starts again, "It happened a long time ago. I was seven at that time and all I could remember about my mother was that she was a beautiful woman. Timid and sickly - but a joy to be around. And when she smiled, it didn't even look like she had cancer."</p><p>Tobio listens on without prying. He waits, patiently, with open ears and sealed lips.</p><p>Asahi-san resumes, though more grateful. "My days with her were counted. Not exactly something any child would ask for, but I still made the best out of it. I was grateful for the time. To this day, I still am." With a pause, he mulls over his next words. His fingers all but quelled on their tasks. "But I wondered...about the people who didn't get to have that. So I couldn't help but think that your friend might have been a little wasteful."</p><p>Tobio reflects over the other's words. He blinks, momentarily forgetting about his own made-up friend and his hypothetically ill grandmother. His scarce response was all it took for Asahi-san to mistake his silence as disagreement.</p><p>"S-sorry, maybe it wasn't my place to say that–"</p><p>"Asahi-san..." This time, Tobio gets the pleasure of cutting off people's speech, "How should he save her then?"</p><p>The older squawks. "Well," He nibbles on his lips, poking his chin with an iffy finger, "Maybe he should start with being a little braver."</p><p>Tobio tilts his head, questioning. Asahi-san smiles, having already prepared a response.</p><p>"It's frightening, to live knowing that things could easily disappear within an instant. Without warning. Without reason." </p><p>Tacitly, Tobio gazes back. </p><p>"You have to make the most of what you have in the present. The thing is, you don't have to wear a flashy cape to save someone. You just need to have the courage. And, if in the end, they no longer need your help, you can let go without regrets."</p><p>Eagerly, Tobio anticipates. And Asahi-san delivers to him without fail.</p><p>"<em>If</em>, tomorrow she doesn't wake up, you wouldn't feel as heartbroken knowing you've told her the dish she cooked for dinner was good."</p><p>Simple as they may be, Tobio knows Asahi-san's suggestion is a solution often undermined. Because people find the lure of the complexity in things more riveting. Much like a mystery novel, they prefer ambivalence. Perhaps for the unenthused, including Tobio himself, the answer would have been justly perfect. For the posh and desperate thinkers, not so much.</p><p>Asahi-san must understand this. He must have dealt with enough grief to know what is trifling and what is not. Asahi-san is simple. Like Tobio, he finds comfort in the simplicity of things.</p><p>"Was it really delicious?" Tobio asks, hands busy with nothing.</p><p>Asahi-san chuckles at his random query but amuses it nonetheless, "No. But she had a pretty smile then."</p><p>His smile lingers. Soft and saccharine. The glow in his face embeds an unfamiliar throb in Tobio's chest. Silently but morosely, he lets the feeling strew.</p><p>He comes home to be greeted by the nagging voice of his mother, tired eyes narrowed and grey hairs tousled. He does as what he's told, carrying a hefty package his father's whining back would not be able to handle. And when he sits, blanketed by a warmth only his home could nurture, he leans into his sister's joking pets and snickers along to her silly antics.</p><p>That night, Tobio eats his dinner with not a trace of leftover in his plate.</p><p>"The meal was delicious." He doesn't forget to tell his mother.</p><p>*</p><p>Tobio doesn't seek Tsukishima the next morning. Yamaguchi messages him of his absence before he even set his foot under the glum archway of the school gate.</p><p>For the rest of the day, he doesn't catch a peep of golden hair or framed glasses.</p><p>He stumbles upon them on his way home. Where he sees the streaks of yellow fall freely on blank eyes and cast counted glances on the window panes of a crowded alley. His frail fingers carelessly grasp on a string of plastic bag, the printed slogan of a local convenience store blinking brighter than Tsukishima's whole presence.</p><p>Caught off-guard, Tobio decides to stealthily follow the boy to his destination. A place he assumes to be the other's home. Equipped with the hunch of a potential killer, Tobio doesn't dither. He does what he does best and faces the trouble head-on - by stalking, that is.</p><p>It's not a criminal offence, he reasons. After all, he's doing it for the sake of Tsukishima's safety.</p><p>Tobio devotes all of his attention to the blonde. Even in the busy, gaudy herd of yammering people, Tsukishima still stands out as a grim reminder of <em>existing </em>loneliness. Tobio follows his icy trails regardless. </p><p>He commits to his plans because he knows the chance is rare luck. If he falls behind now and loses grip of Tsukishima's paling shape he might as well be daft for the rest of his life. So he stubbornly latches on, phantom strings pulling him to his nebulous umbra despite the hostile yelps and disgruntled stares of passersby. His steps naturally hasten, gliding whenever and wherever Tsukishima turns to. </p><p>Darker and darker, the passageways transcend. Some roads blooming with crystal lights. Others with blue melancholy. And when Tobio shortens the distance, he's more than befuddled to be met with another shadow.</p><p>He squints at the hazy lines. The beat of his heart spike up. There, from the distance, a leering eye gawks at Tsukishima. It's less recognizable under the touch of flitting lustre. Tobio cannot make out much of the stranger. All he can trace is a black hoodie around broad shoulders, possibly male and possibly older. <em>Possibly a murderer</em>.</p><p>Tobio clenches, eyes dilating, contracting then expanding. He plants his sight on the lurking man. When he dares a step, Tobio follows. When he covers an inch of distance, Tobio readies. Almost like mice in a maze, they make a train of trembling silhouettes - Tsukishima unaware of anything.</p><p>The seconds fleet. One deep exhale for every track. Two thumps. Three thumps. Tobio times his pace well with the drumming of his heart. </p><p>He widens his stride when <em>they</em> turn to another edge - Tsukishima treading wisely onto a busier avenue. Leaves rustle from above them, winds picking up harsher and harsher. Heels tap from afar, muffled laughter disperse and honking cars emerge through the hollows of twigs and branches. </p><p>The clangours babble. They gyrate like ripples in the water.</p><p>Pouncing on Tobio's frantic strides. Bawling at Tsukishima's leaden walks. </p><p>
  <em>He's getting closer. He's getting closer</em>
</p><p>All Tobio sees is the stranger's hand drifting closer and closer and -</p><p>
  <strong>"TSUKISHIMA!" </strong>
</p><p>Tobio bellows. Strong and sonorous.</p><p>His voice captures Tsukishima right on time. </p><p>But he falters.</p><p>He finds himself paralyzed in his spot - the image of a speeding truck desperately blaring at Tsukishima's daunted shadow. The time halts with a sharp intake of breath. And Tobio sees the boy's indistinct shape evaporate under the beam of a thousand lights. </p><p>Tobio could only stare as the haunting outlines burn in a raging blaze. In that swift bit of repose, he sees Tsukishima peer at him in surrender. Unblinking. Unmoving. Uncaring - he braces for impact.</p><p>Nothing. He does nothing.</p><p>
  <em>Tsukishima simply gives up.</em>
</p><p>Tobio seals his eyes shut and awaits the dreadful ring of sirens. </p><p><em>One thump. Two thumps. Three thumps </em>-</p><p>"What -" He hears a voice, almost smothered.</p><p>Tobio gasps, blinded by the sight of a steaming engine and two cowering bodies. Before him, lies a shaken Tsukishima, devoid of life despite the heavy panting of his chest. He's enveloped by arms thicker than his own, head firmly tucked under the shade of a trembling chin. </p><p>From behind them, the crowd whisper to themselves. And though loud enough to deafen Tobio's ears, the clamour is dead quiet.</p><p>All Tobio sees and hear is Tsukishima and,</p><p>"Oikawa...san?"</p><p>*</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is there a red-herring?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. TRACK III</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>there may be errors ahead. sorry for the delay &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>*</p><p>
  <em>There's a place where only lonely souls can go.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I know. I've been there.</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>They sit in the farthest corner of a shabby, worn cafe shop. The untethered jitters in their bones rattled whatever was left of their senses. Above them hangs a rusty, cheerless chandelier, flickering noisily to the rhythm of outside's din. </p><p>Tsukishima, seated across the discoloured metal table, leans stiffly against the chestnut backrest of a lounge lawson armchair. His thin fingers rest weightlessly on the golden accents of the seat. Despite the stark and bold radiance of his impassive eyes, the fear in them could not be more apparent. The shaken gaze flitted across the quiet evening, Tsukishima at loss for any syllables to utter and with little shift in his movement.</p><p>"So?" Oikawa speaks from beside Tobio. There is a tinge of impatience in his lilted voice. Tobio, always the first to bristle at it in distaste, regards him with a snide rumble. If not for the silent battle they had subjected themselves to under the rickety table, knees bumping and pushing for dominance over a limited chair space - Tobio would have gladly cooperated with Oikawa.</p><p>One interaction was enough, more of it is insufferable <em>at best</em>. Tobio doesn't think he'd be able to bear what the worst of Oikawa's presence could offer.</p><p>But, he supposes, there is a time for hatred. And a time to be as civil as possible about said hatred. What they have in their hands is a mess worth lowering their pride for - if not to a less pronounced extent. There are bigger issues to address, and with Tsukishima at the forefront of it all, it’s hard to be anything but focused.</p><p>Oikawa himself makes it a priority to be as insistent as possible.</p><p>"What do you think?" He adds, less subtle than the arch of his brow.</p><p>Tsukishima sits before him, a face too sullen to recognize and sweater too loose for his bony build. His poise stays graceful and he carries himself in that haughty disposition he so proudly parades to everyone at school. But never, in the short months that Tobio has gazed at him, has the blonde looked truly appalled over a piece of crumpled paper.</p><p>Though, Tobio thinks anyone who had the misfortune of reading their own death had felt the same. Not so guiltily, he rejoices at the mortified expression in Tsukishima's face. But it wasn't some sick, twisted fantasy - more like a relief that the boy at least felt something for himself. He even appeared <em>present</em>, something Tobio once thought of as a rarity.</p><p>"Does..." Tsukishima begins. He takes his time as if to pace his breathing. Then, after a distracted second, he proceeds with a lighter hitch, "Does this have anything to do with the package you were telling me about?"</p><p>Tobio composes himself. He raises a hesitant chin and lets his head nod languidly. "Mine were tracks. I had to play them with a walkman."</p><p>His reply gains hin a curios hum. Tsukishima adjusts his weight on the cafe's brick walls and twirls the paper in his fingers. "So you," the boy pointedly stares at Oikawa, "received a letter and you," then smoothly turns to Tobio, "got a box of old cassette tapes."</p><p>"It came with the same letter." Tobio affirms.</p><p>The mug in Oikawa's hand jingles as he moves to add, though nasally from the frosty evening, "Do you have any idea about the sender?"</p><p>"If I did, I wouldn't be this surprised." Tsukishima replies swiftly. His fingers drum a beat against the table, displaying a plain view of his blue knuckles.</p><p>Tobio notes the way each bump protruded. Paired with the sickly shade of his complexion, it was almost as if the bones of his fingers could corrode at any given moment. The longer Tobio fixates on his leaden limbs and sunless glares, the stronger the worry flutters in his stomach.</p><p>Tsukishima hooks a thumb over the end of his other sleeve. When he sighs, tired and disturbed, the dull glower of the streetlight casts a mournful shadow over his ashen face. "I guess it's time to write my will."</p><p>Oikawa makes a noise, far from nonchalant. As he places an unruly strand behind his ear, he evinces an air the great contrast of his balmy grins and playful smirks. "Not the time for jokes." He berates. "Can you not think of anyone who'd be capable of doing this?"</p><p>The blonde shifts again. He makes a sound akin to a contemplative old man, making a show of folding his hands and twiddling with his glasses. "It might take a while. I don't really remember the names of people I piss off." He says, droning the end of his sentence. He lazily wipes the lens of his frames, throwing Tobio a flinty glance. "Just the ones I see on a daily basis."</p><p>Tobio rolls his eyes at that. <em>How typical</em>, he wants to say. Really, even in the face of imminent danger, Tsukishima manages to stay catty. Equipped with a snarky jest or two - it always seemed the most expected outcome for him. Like a default. The blonde could be drowning in a sea of snakes but still come up with a quip to insult the situation.</p><p>So Tobio resists. He lets the lock of his fists unclench, the fumes of his growing discontent gradually dissipating. This is Tsukishima after all, sour, spiteful and abominable Tsukishima. The embodiment of unsweetened flavouring. Strange kids, perhaps, would love a taste of bitterness in their lives. But Tobio neither had the oddity for it nor the diligence to deal with its troubles. That was until he got the package. </p><p>"What about the guys who beat you up the other day?" Tobio segues, purposely dismissing Tsukishima's intentional taunt. A scarce reaction, one that did not give away too much of irritation or aggravation - was something the blonde would certainly find as dissatisfying. And a dissatisfied Tsukishima, as Tobio had once learned, was a quieter, more pleasant company to have.</p><p>The blonde crinkles his face, visibly miffed. Huffing, he puts on his glasses with a sound clang. <em>What a bore</em>, his unimpressed gaze seems to tell.</p><p>"Those guys? We went to the same middle school together." In his pause, he lets slip a mock display of nostalgia. "I used to tease the shit of the guy's height, always prancing around with his loose pants and oversized sketchers."</p><p>"Do you make badmouthing your prime profession or something?" Oikawa grumbles disapprovingly. Tobio contains the urge to ask him the same.</p><p>"Listen, he asked for it. Acting like he was king of the playground and picking up on -" At that, his confidence wavered. The much enthused and derisive tint of his language declined to a slackening jaw.</p><p>"On?" Oikawa probes, taken aback by the scratching halt of his speech.</p><p>Tsukishima havers, fumbling through his explanation before finally, he clears his throat and regains a stable stance, "Nothing you ought to know." He concludes. Struck by the gloom of the note in his hand, Tsukishima recoils, "Anyway it's just a letter. You received this at your doorstep like what? Last week?"</p><p>"No, Sunday." Tobio and Oikawa chorus. They scorn each other, irked.</p><p>Tsukishima blinks at them in half amusement. "Sunday or whatever. It probably means nothing. Maybe they did it for fun, to scare me off –"</p><p>"If it <em>was</em> nothing," Oikawa starts, accent deeper. He rests his elbows close to the frayed borders of their table, the tips of his chin glued tight atop his crossed fingers. "Why did they have to involve us and not just you?"</p><p>"Beats me." Tsukishim answers easily. He adds a shrug, one so passive that Tobio almost mistakes it for a shiver. "Listen, I admit it's a bit concerning but...I don't want to worry nii-san. So please, if we could keep this to ourselves –"</p><p>"No." The frankness in Oikawa's tone vibrated with a scathing reproach. It was almost fear-inducing, the blunt edge of his response baring a demand that not even Tsukishima could breach.</p><p>Tobio has only ever heard the man talk like that in the few times he's held a conversation with him. Those times, he surmised, had been an uncommon fit for the other. He wasn't one to act or sound serious, much less be anything but obnoxious. Watching Oikawa put down the friendly guise and take on a stern front is a great reminder for Tobio to never undermine his seniority. After all, Oikawa proved to be very much capable of acting his age if he felt it necessary.</p><p>"I don't know what's happening here but I can't just let this go." The older surveys Tsukishima with a pensive stare. He lets his body sag against the surface, the thick steam of his coffee snaking its way to his tense lips. "Whoever's behind this either knows about your supposed death– or worse, wants you dead. That's a threat I can’t ignore."</p><p>"A murderer?" Tobio interjects. Suddenly, he feels his heart spike up. The unabating tenacity of unrest resided close to his chest, hissing and fizzling - brewing a turmoil that trickled down to the pit of his stomach and leaving him immobile. Tobio is rendered unresponsive. He sends the older a ghastly pallor, struck with a realisation too sickening for his warm beverage.</p><p>Oikawa gawks at him. Quizzically, he poses, "What, you don't think it's not some killer on the loose?" When Tobio turns his gaze, he persists, "What else could it be?"</p><p>Tobio doesn't know. Rather, he struggles to find an explanation for it. He just has an inkling that can't seem to go away. Something about Oikawa's claims <em>did</em> make a lot of sense, but his instincts still blared at it with distrust. Oikawa had obstinately felt so sure. And Tsukishima, though more subdued and less vocal, even looked close to expressing the same thought. It was as if the both of them had one, singular possibility in mind. Short of any diffidence or reservation.</p><p>Then, <em>why did he not think of that too?</em></p><p>Tobiogawksat Tsukishima to search for an answer. He plunges, deep into the hollows of Tsukishima's unreadable eyes, only to come back from the chasm with a bind in his hand and dryness in his throat.</p><p>Thoughtlessly, Tobio responds, "Yeah, you're probably right."</p><p>Silence dawns on the already nondescript ambience of the place. For a while, no one could divert from the indolent stillness, with Oikawa peeved from the mistimed interruption and Tsukishima slumped leisurely by the closed windows of the wall. Absence drains the anxious and dread fills the cup with obscurity - Tobio becoming more and more frazzled by the furtive changes in Tsukishima. Is he no longer scared? Is he putting up a facade? Does he even care?</p><p>"For all we know that truck could have been planned."</p><p>The questions that bombard him pull to a stop. Tobio's vehement curiosity gets the best of him, ardently hearkening to Tsukishima's response. He anticipates, fingers twitching in a different sort of thrill that left him counting the seconds of Tsukishima's delay.</p><p>And when met with a disbelieving scoff, Tobio tries not to show his disappointment.</p><p>"Are you seriously thinking someone's gonna go that far just to kill me?" Tsukishima counters.</p><p>Predictable. Tsukishima surely doubts the thought. He was always sceptical about everything. What did Tobio expect? That he would outright believe the threats? And if he did, would Tsukishima even think twice about blatantly neglecting them? Obviously not. Given the other's proclivity to avoid troublesome situations, Tobio knew the blonde's reply had been guaranteed.</p><p>Still, Oikawa tries for both of them. "I don't know, you tell me."</p><p>Tsukishima harrumphs, contributing more than caustic sallies to his answer. "Aito and his dumbo crew may be stinky pieces of shit but they're not capable of something <em>that</em> intricate. and I sure as hell know most of the people I've pissed off could care less about me to wish for my death."</p><p>"Then, what if it's someone close to you?" Tobio postulates. The tip of tongue burns with a scalding, <em>what if it's someone you trust?</em></p><p>Tsukishima stiffens, ruminative. Something about the abstruse contortion in his face tells Tobio he's already got a suspect in mind. But, "I'm no perfect son, but I don't think my family has <em>that</em> much interest in committing murder either. It's just another burden on the bill."</p><p>The reason plants a rancorous suspicion in Tobio. It whistles with a condescending cackle, meant to ridicule Tobio for something he <em>should</em> be able to grasp. There's a suspect, Tobio knows. But Tsukishima is defiant about its existence.</p><p>"Friends?" Oikawa urges anyway, never one to waste time.</p><p>Tsukishima frowns. "Yamaguchi? Well -"</p><p>The older audibly groans in vexation, "Good lord you're such a loner. No other friends? From childhood?"</p><p>"I'm sorry, Mr Congeniality. We can't all be suckers for vacuous popularity contests, can we?"</p><p>"And here I thought your seniors teach you well," Oikawa remarks, ire smothered by the brim of his cold cup. "Your volleyball is bad enough, can't they at least set your manners straight?"</p><p>"I like to keep it like that." Tsukishima sardonically counters, "If we're playing the guessing game, why not start with them?"</p><p>Tobio knits his brows. He readies himself to join in on the conversation. "Our volleyball team?"</p><p>Tobio watches as Tsukishima guzzles the last of his coffee.</p><p>"Who knows." The boy tells him, sleeve stuck to edges of his mouth. "Maybe it's one of them. Or..." A blank gander at Tobio, "It could be that shrimpy."</p><p>Tobio baulks. "Hinata's too dumb for that," He defends. As he feels a glister of gold peer at him with slight mischief, he fudges, "S-sugawara-san and the others care about you too, you know."</p><p>Tsukishima quirks a brow, calm and unruffled. The lines of his pinched face doubled, almost to say he did not believe Tobio's consolation. There was not a single hint of flattery in them.</p><p>"Then, I don't know who else to suspect." The blonde admits.</p><p>"You're awfully indifferent about this." Oikawa comments. "You don't seem too interested in anything at all."</p><p>Tsukishima brushes off the accusation with partly closed lids. His head tilts, expressly ignoring Oikawa's pensive regard. "I'm not. It's just an act. Panicking about it won't help any of us."</p><p>"Regardless, if things turn bad I won't hesitate on calling the police."</p><p>The boy prepares to object, "You-"</p><p>"<em>But,</em>" Oikawa intercedes, "If we can figure this out on our own, we might be able to find a way around it. Less attraction, just as you wish."</p><p>"And how do you plan on doing that?" Tsukishima goads. His fingers rap against the silver margins, their taps partnered with unmistakable indecision. He was anything but amiable - active when disputing, apathetic when precarious. Tsukishima was like that. Consistently on the defence, and by extension, eternally offensive.</p><p>The belligerence is expressed perfectly, punctually even. Tsukishima has a venomous tongue and a despicable villain monologue that goes well with it. But Oikawa prided himself with the same no-nonsense character. It's a part of him that was the most trustworthy. He expertly repels Tsukishima's crankiness with a flawless rise of the eyebrow, one palm stuck to his cheek and the other high above the table.</p><p>He dangles a scruffy notebook near the centre of the Tobio's vision. The worn springs are tinted a dusty maroon, loose around the creased corners of its plain black cover. When Tobio gives it a deeper inspection, he sees a messily scribbled cursive of "TSUKISHIMA" on it.</p><p>"Maybe we should start with this." Oikawa slowly swings the notebook in mild excitement.</p><p>Straight away, Tsukishima's body straightens in recognition. The locks of his hair bounce elatedly, casting a shade over his large, unflinching eyes.</p><p>"Where did you get that?" His voice sounded coarse.</p><p>"This <em>is</em> the package." Oikawa provides him with a short answer. He waves the material with feigned disinterest, stopping at certain pages when Tsukishima takes his moment to reply. "Don't worry, I didn't read through all of it. Just the embarrassing parts."</p><p>Tobio repeats another peek at the pad, "Yours?" </p><p>"My brother's" Tsukishima corrects. Carefully, he tugs at the edge of the notes and flips through the pages. Once finally examined, he confirms the owner again.</p><p>The owner, to Oikawa's great dismay, is a baffling discovery, "With all the saltiness surrounding it, I would have thought it was yours."</p><p>Tsukishima overlooks the jab with a disdainful flick of the wrist. He lets his fingers turn to another page with a harsh whoosh, "How did this get to you?" He mutters to himself, disbelieving.</p><p>Tobio chimes in with a query of his own, "How's that going to help?"</p><p>Oikawa stills, "There's something odd about it."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"Some of the entries written just felt off." Oikawa taps on a paragraph and observes as Tsukishima studies its content. "Your brother seems to like fireflies a lot. Every page I peek at, it's either drawn there or mentioned. Hell, he had a whole poem about a firefly killing him in his sleep."</p><p>"Maybe he just hates them." Tobio muses.</p><p>Oikawa clicks his tongue, "Even if he did, he wouldn't go as far as to paint it all over his notebook."</p><p>As if on cue, Tsukishima stops on a page littered with hand-drawn fireflies. Tobio notices the white glisten through their inkblots. Specks of silver are painted over the initial margins, twining gracefully around a stem of vague titles. Disorder plague the sheets. Denied of space, the writings stalk the looped paths of the fireflies.</p><p>"But that's not all."</p><p>At the drop of his tone, Tsukishima and Tobio straighten their numbed limbs. The chill around them heightens.</p><p>Oikawa feeds the tension with a slow blink towards the notebook's lines. "Page 45, entry 200, he talks about a shadow who keeps following him around."</p><p>"A stalker?" Tobio clarifies.</p><p>"Maybe." Oikawa shrugs. He inches forward and instructs, "Page 56, entry 211 -"</p><p>"<em>They're going to take my brother.</em>" Tsukishima reads aloud.</p><p>Oikawa pauses, "Page 67, entry 300."</p><p>"<em>They want my brother</em>."</p><p>"Page 92, entry 345..."</p><p>"<em>They want Kei.</em>"</p><p>A noisy hush. Then, "Page 135, entry 400 -"</p><p>"A graveyard."</p><p>Tobio perks up. "A graveyard?"</p><p>"The same one we went to before," Tsukishima mumbles absently. With two, frigid hands, he slides the notes to Tobio's side. Tobio scans through the jotted letters, some jumbled, others in clusters, and as he reviews another crisp leaf he finds himself out of pace.</p><p>At the middle of the disarranged characters glares an austere sketch of a map. Three dots inscribe themselves in a curve, posing as a landmark with a distance no farther than the length of Tobio's nails.</p><p>Tobio traces the dots and counts an imaginary line for each. Easily, the gait of his fingers trails after the direction of the marks. They stop, right above a doodled tombstone, where a name too familiar stays close to its epitaph.</p><p>"The same one we went to before," Tobio whispers weakly. "H-how did they know about that? What if they just happened to have stumbled upon it before."</p><p>"I don't know what you guys were doing to end up on a graveyard but, the possibility of <em>them</em> knowing about it isn't unlikely." Oikawa insists, "No dates, no time stamps –for all we know, this could be a recent entry."</p><p>"But there are other pages left." To prove his point, Tobio loosens his hold and lets the paper fall open.</p><p>"They're not in order."</p><p>To confirm, Tobio checks the entries again. He does it painstakingly, not one to leave out any pages unchecked. Reading through each dotted lines, he finds the first pages numbered as <em>500</em>, <em>678, 789</em> - and the last as <em>000</em>. Tobio squints at it, aghast. Tsukishima sighs drowsily in his seat, presumably having noticed the detail already. Whether he was terrified or not, he did an impressive job at keeping it hidden.</p><p>Tobio himself could only utter a quaint, "<em>Oh</em>."</p><p>- A sound too light to travel across the air. It had a little gasp in it, something Oikawa hums at with a bit of understanding.</p><p>"Whoever this <em>shadow</em> is, they seem to like Tsukishima a lot." He says. He thumps his knuckles on the table, not forgetting to point at another firefly, "Maybe in some twisted sense, they want to own you by killing you -"</p><p>"Hold your cape, oh great king," Tsukishima voices thinly from across, "We just went from listing so-called <em>suspects</em> that hate on me to some sadist, possibly psychopathic suspect who probably wants to have me? I can tell you like to read mystery novels because the way I see it, you're blowing this out of proportion."</p><p>And though it pleases Tobio to correct Tsukishima - he <em>aches</em> at the idea of siding with Oikawa. It's a losing battle for sure, but Tobio perseveres anyway. He has to if he ever wants that good night rest. <em>A compromise for sanity, </em>as how Tobio likes to treat it.</p><p>"Oikawa-san may have a point. So far the only thing you recognize from the packages is this diary - not the tracks, or the notes - which would make it the most credible source we have at the moment. Whoever this <em>shadow</em> is may not be a suspect, but the fact that they exist, at least as from what your brother wrote, they might be able to tell us something."</p><p>A sharply drawn breath escapes through Oikawa's pressed lips. He exclaims, paired with an exaggeration only unique to him -</p><p>"I don't know if I should be offended that you're agreeing with me or delighted that you're finally gaining more brain cells in that volleyball head of yours."</p><p>Tobio scorns at him. Boldly, he dares, "Maybe you should keep up. I heard your brain is going stale these days."</p><p>"Why you –"</p><p>Tobio stretches his legs, jerking it against Oikawa's to claim the seat. Oikawa, not having any of his pettiness, fights back with just as much fervour in his knees. Back and forth, pushing and preening, blessed by the grace of a five-year-old's wit –they struggle for the damned space. The nudges persist, drawing stinging marks on each other's ribs, shoulders and, not so funnily, heads.</p><p>"<em>If</em>," Tsukishima's humourless interjection cuts the scuffle short. He faces the pair with the same old crease carved into his forehead. Politely, he adds, "If there is someone, I don't want my bother finding out about it."</p><p>"Why?" Tobio wonders out loud. "He's the only one we can ask right now -"</p><p>"I –!" Tsukishima clears his throat. He averts his gaze to the floor, uncharacteristically modest. "<em>Uhm</em>, I- I mean, I can think of something else. <em>Just</em>, please don't drag other people into whatever this is."</p><p>"I understand." Oikawa sternly replies, "Although, it might be best if you tell him. I know you're worried about his safety, but you should think about yours too."</p><p>"I'll find a way -"</p><p>"I'll help." Tobio volunteers without thought. Two pairs of clueless eyes gawk at him. "I...I mean, I still have the package with me, and I-I'm already involved as it is s-so, <em>uh -</em>"</p><p>His jabber evinces an unattractive snort from Oikawa, replacing the older's filtered chuckles. "What he means to say is that you don't have to do it alone. I'll help too."</p><p>"Thank you, but I can handle this."</p><p>"Whether you can or not is not the case here." Oikawa skillfully rebuts. "You're already against telling your family, your teammates and the police - the least you could do is to cooperate with us." He concludes, with a nicer intonation, "Having an ally can make things easier for you, you know?"</p><p>Tsukishima returns him a grumbled sigh, but his silence tells them all they needed to know. Almost like a jaded breath, it tumbles through the musty ceilings. Tobio seeks the reprieve of its release and for the first time, he feels relief settle in his own bones.</p><p>*</p><p>Lunch at school is listless. A lazy, humdrum afternoon with too many crickets and bugs shrieking and crawling about openly. It's the usual. It's the <em>normal</em>. Tobio knows the pressing matters at hand. He knows that he wouldn't be able to truly eschew the grievances away. But today, Tobio submerges himself in the serenity, believing the rest can be dealt with tomorrow.</p><p>For now, he feels at ease. For now, he is untroubled.</p><p>"You're not going to eat that?"</p><p>–until Hinata had the brilliant idea to sneak into the barricaded rooftops and rope his volleyball 'buddies' into his shenanigans. Yamaguchi, who Tobio once deemed as the voice of reason, had readily agreed to the idea without much defiance. And if Yamaguchi, dependable, gleeful Yamaguchi, thought to include Tobio, that would mean Tsukishima would be obliged to come as well.</p><p>The rule is that if you get one stubborn duckling to follow you, you'd feel convinced another would. In this case, Yamaguchi cleverly assumed the same. It worked, regardless of the griping and grousing, or the well-defined scowls and unasked jests.</p><p>So here they sit, sweating from the scorching weather in their too-tight slacks and half-emptied water bottles.</p><p>"No." Tobio mutters tiredly for the third time. He presents his lunch, already expecting Hinata's frisky hands to swoop in and take half of its content. Mother would be livid if he came home without it emptied. And Hinata seems more than willing to take on the task. It's become of a habit for the other. If Tobio were to act kindly, or invitingly, Hinata would shamelessly take advantage of it. <em>"Better exploit while you have it" </em>–as his simple principle goes. He even had the gall to add, <em>"When you're switched off, you're a better company."</em></p><p>"I'll beat you up." Tobio swore. Today, however, he is content in savouring the hush of a September morning.</p><p>His resigned comment booms through the skies. It beckons Yamaguchi's attention, the boy shuffling in his spot by the locked entryway.</p><p>"That reminds me," He waits, scarfing the rest of his rice as if it would push his qualms away. Yamaguchi lets the mystery linger before he begins, fingers flighty around the ends of his chopsticks. "I heard from Akiteru-san that it was Aito who bothered you the other day. Why didn't you tell me?"</p><p>He makes it sound lax enough to not stir tension. Though the restive worry still hangs on to the wordless glances, Yamaguchi makes an admirable display of nonchalance.</p><p>It's light enough for Hinata not to notice. And so he speaks, plump cheeks splattered with salty remnants of fish, "Aito? Who?"</p><p>Yamaguchi nods his head. "Tsukki and I went to the same middle school as them." He reveals airily. Though, something about the delay in his blinks told Tobio he wasn't as casual about it. "They used to bully because I was the weakest in our class. I thought they'd grown out of that habit, but I guess some folks are just stubborn to let things go."</p><p>Then it clicks. Like a flashbulb flickering with familiarity, Tobio proceeds to gape and, "So that's why -"</p><p>A sharp poke. Strong enough to send him barrelling to the floor, but sly enough to make him suspect.</p><p>"Ah, sorry about that," Tsukishima speaks, feigning remorse. He grips on his arm in a sheepish fashion, "My elbow slipped." The devious glint in his eyes did not look convincing.</p><p>"T-" Tobio grunts as he heaves himself up. Palms scraped and fumes lit, he begins to glower at Tsukishima. "That wasn't an accident at all."</p><p>"Oi, Tsukishima! What did you that for?" From behind the shaded corner, Hinata begins to chide. He plants both palms to the dips of his hips, pulling the edges of his lips to form a disapproving frown. "You can't just push people whenever you feel like - <em>ack</em>!"</p><p>Another thud. And Hinata falls on Tobio's chest.</p><p>"Oh, wow sorry again. I'm really clumsy today." There's a hint of bliss in his lacklustre apology. When Tsukishima angles his head, the tip of his nose tilting playfully, his shy chuckles remain unrepentant.</p><p>Hinata flails his hand around out of embarrassment. He squeaks, blushing and floundering in Tobio's chest and cutting off his airways more than once. As he awkwardly struggles to return to his balance, his quaking knees bump right into Tobio's unwarned groin. It throbs. Achingly and without mercy. A hellish, excruciating punishment only the worst could ever ask for - and Tobio finds himself reeling and hunching in agony. </p><p>It's a test of patience and tolerance. For both Tobio and his sore crotch. It is also a test of one's humanity. For Tsukishima and his badly concealed guffaws. And try as he might, Tobio is unable to reciprocate the disrespect. Not that Tsukishima was in any way affected to at least act subtle about it. But no. The blonde had been patently contented with simply hollering at Tobio's suffering.</p><p>A demon. Tobio is more than confident Tsukishima is a demon banned from hell. Perhaps the underworld had shunned his existence because he'd been too wicked for them too. And <em>oh</em>, what a lovely feat would that be if not for the mere atrocity it brought. Tsukishima seems to wear that impression like a <em>fine</em> crown.</p><p>"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi berates through the clamorous chatter of Hinata's pleas.</p><p>In a string of unfortunate (or intentional) mishaps, Tobio forgets the noisy clangours of his own mind. He listens instead, to the meek reminders of Yamaguchi's fond voice, the guilty colours of Hinata's apologies and, Tsukishima's laughter - his blithe, unfettered laughter. Tobio heeds to it like a parched man on a desert island.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Tobio blinks. He takes a moment to register the hands over his shoulders and Tsukishima's attention on him. The cacophony lessens in Tobio's ears, replaced with a low, lulling decibel. When Tobio stares more clearly at Tsukishima's features, seeing the rays draw shimmers on his skin, Tobio begins to <em>breathe</em>.</p><p>"Nothing." He says. The hues of Tsukishima's figure assess him with a faint, inquisitive verve. Tobio nearly dreads the peace when the swirls of yellow probe him to continue. "Just...you're laughing."</p><p>Tsukishima recoils, "Is there anything wrong with that?"</p><p>"No." Tobio hastily recovers. "It suits you." He adds, distracted.</p><p>"Well," The blonde simpers. "If you do more dumb stuff, I might just be laughing every day."</p><p><em>You should do it more often</em>, Tobio wants to agree. "You don't do well with compliments, do you?"</p><p>"You call that a compliment?" Tsukishima scoffs, doubtful of the praise. "You're weird."</p><p>Tobio soundlessly ignores his words. He follows up with something more important, something he'd felt he should have paid more close attention to. But he waits, for Hinata to distract himself with guilt and for Yamaguchi to sweetly coax him from his moping – far enough and out earshot.</p><p>"About the tracks." He tells Tsukishima, murmuring lowly. "Do you want to take it?"</p><p>Tsukishima shakes his head. "Keep it for me -for now."</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>"I'll listen to it when I'm ready."</p><p><em>"Why do you have to be ready?" </em>Tobio wishes to pry. But a quick glance at Tsukishima's empty, wearied eyes stops him from asking again.</p><p>"Tell me when you are." He returns, hopeful.</p><p>*</p><p>Practice ends with a surprise. Oikawa appears before them (with the exclusion of most of the seniors, a busy Yamaguchi and a surprisingly busier Hinata) – dressed in his untidy uniform and windswept hair. He bears blue bags under his eyes, the curled tips of his lashes deflated. Even his pretence fails to radiate a suave flair. From the folds in his sleeves to the sickly colour of his complexion, it’s clear that the frames of his glasses did not do much to conceal his tiredness. Still, he managed to be <em>present</em>.</p><p>Tanaka-san and Nishinoya-san did not waste a single second goading him about the unexpected visit. Tobio, always the impartial, not so helpfully encourages them with a steely compliance. And if Oikawa had felt betrayed then, Tobio didn't care enough to feel repentant. A man his size skulking about the corridors of a rival's abode should own up to his responsibilities – Oikawa should have known better than to walk in unprepared.</p><p>He's fairing well though. The older certainly could not shy away from confrontations - much less concede. Oikawa has enough experience to deal with, as what he calls, prudish hosts (except he was never a favoured guest).</p><p>"Ya' tryna' spy on us or something, pretty boy?" Tanaka-san challenges with a raspy welcome.</p><p>Nishinoya-san, his most cherished accomplice, mounts over the other to cast Oikawa a callous, "You looking for a fight? Ha?"</p><p>"I'd rather not spend my time growling at barking dogs." Oikawa snobbishly parries the provocations. He flips his air, the gesture almost comical if not for the leaden swivel he makes towards Tobio's way.  "I'm not here to pick a senseless fight. I need to talk to your cute <em>kouhais</em> about something important."</p><p>"What do you want from them?" The threat grows.</p><p>"I think it's up to your juniors to explain it, <em>hm</em>?" Oikawa sneers, derisive.</p><p>Tanaka-san snarks back with just as much heat, fists deep in his pockets, "You tryna' say something?"</p><p>"Ah! Oikawa-san." Suddenly, an unlikely cheer pervades through the overcast noon.</p><p>Tobio whips his head to the source and sure enough, he hears Tsukishima aptly intervening. He stands, close to the space betwixt the seniors, and lets his towering height act as a barrier.</p><p>"Sorry, Tanaka-san. I was supposed to meet him today." Tsukishima extends his arms, palm facing up as he sends Oikawa a cryptic stare. "Yamaguchi told me Oikawa-san had something of mine that I must have dropped on my way home."</p><p>At the implication of Tsukishima's notebook, Oikawa cunningly makes up another excuse. "But seeing as I went through the trouble of keeping it safe for him, I asked for a little compensation."</p><p>The reason did not sit well with Nishinoya-san however, "Asking for money? From <em>my</em> kouhai? How low of you!"</p><p>It was the hint Tobio needed to contribute, albeit forcibly. "About that. I also asked for Oikawa-san."</p><p>"Ha?" His two seniors bellowed.</p><p>"I wanted to ask for volleyball tips. And I figured I could ask a former senpai about it." </p><p>"I thought you hated the guy?" Tanaka-san probes. Tobio holds back a wince as he feels Oikawa's gaze on him.</p><p>"I- uh, well, <em>uhm</em>..." Tobio stumbles. He searches instinctively for Tsukishima's aid.</p><p>Tsukishima, conniving as ever, quickly dodges the question for him. "Oh, would you look at that. It's running late, I think we need to go if we don't want to be late for dinner."</p><p>"Wha - <em>oi</em>! Where are you going?"</p><p>He pulls on Tobio's sleeve and trails after Oikawa's retreating figure. And as the short-lived conversation reels in silence, Tanaka-san's confused calls quieten.</p><p>"Props for keeping it on the low." Tsukishima tells him as a warning.</p><p>Tobio snorts. Temporarily, the horror of having to face an early interrogation tomorrow exits his mind. "The only thing he keeps on the low is his personality."</p><p>"You lots don't know how to shut up, do you?" Oikawa comments, not bothering to face the two.</p><p>"So? What do you want?" Tobio poses instead.</p><p>"I need you to come with me." Oikawa says. He pivots swiftly, shoving the notebook in front of their sight. "To the graveyard."</p><p>When he's met with confused looks, he decides to add, "The first step is to investigate whatever clue we have on our hands."</p><p>It's Tsukishima who snorts this time, "Investigate? Is that why you're wearing glasses right now?"</p><p>Unmoved, Oikawa veers away from the temptation. "<em>As</em> I was saying, the clues at our disposable are important. It's rare to find maps in diaries - even rarer to have it hand-drawn. There must be something in this graveyard that we have to look into."</p><p>The plan is set. Despite having qualms about it, Tsukishima and Tobio choose to agree. It comes as a surprise, how cooperative Tsukishima actd. If Tobio were to recall the times he'd seen the boy immerse himself in volleyball, his contributions today could easily outnumber that tally.</p><p>Tobio mulls over the change during their long-winded trek. He absently reflects- about how often he would find himself thinking about Tsukishima. His habits, his clothes, the way he talks, or laughs or stares. Any romance novels would have an explanation for that. Sadly, it wasn't a genre Tobio considered. Liking Tsukishima? In a platonic sense, he could narrowly see it. In a romantic one? Yeah right, it would have to be the end of the world for that to happen. And even then, Tobio thinks the chances are low.</p><p>"Tired already?" Oikawa's vexing tone recedes into a thinly veiled concern. It jostles Tobio into wariness, the soft voice too foreign to his ears.</p><p>Tsukishima acknowledges it with a near-grimace.</p><p>"No." He stubbornly replies.</p><p>The path they trekk on is on another end, far from the entry gates of the graveyard. Oikawa had insisted they strictly follow the map, so the boys are left with no choice but to endure an upward slope.</p><p>Now that they are short of clean benches to sit on, Tsukishima chooses to rest against a mossy boulder.</p><p>Tobio notices the way Oikawa lags behind him as they reach another crooked branch, pacing his stride to the heavy beats of Tsukishima's breathing. Their steps stop altogether, already a few feet away from Tsukishima's slumped shadow.</p><p>"You can go on ahead, I'll follow." The boy tells them. His volume is augmented, sure to reach their ears.</p><p>"We'll wait." Oikawa insists. Naturally, Tobio does the same.</p><p>They make their way to a different spot, crouching on a smaller boulder. The still glare of orange horizons looms over their heads. There's a chasm, somewhere in the middle of the vast sky, where Tobio catches a glimpse of flickering stars. The hollows of the heaven roar eerily, and much like a painting, its clouds are blemished by a smidgen of rising haze.</p><p>Misty and indistinct, the sky begins to dim.</p><p>"Why are you helping?" Tobio brings up out of nowhere. A withered sunflower grazes his shin. He pokes the crippled petals, watching intently as they plummet to the dried soil.</p><p>The frank suspicion doesn't deter Oikawa however. He coughs, palms slack against the smoother edges of the rock.</p><p>"Ever tried catching a firefly?" His random retort disrupts Tobio's peace.</p><p>Tobio replies simply, "No."</p><p>"I did once." Oikawa hooks his finger over a wilted tiger grass. His thumb falters, chafed at the side. When Tobio draws his eyes on them, he sees a peek of vibrant red seep through the skin. "I kept it in a bottle and stared at it all night. But when I woke up, it stopped glowing." A crestfallen sigh escapes, "I thought maybe I caught the wrong firefly. <em>Maybe</em>...if I tried again, I'd be able to keep the bottle glowing."</p><p>Tobio halts. Two rotting stems in his hand. Meticulously, he lays one back to his side.</p><p>"I wonder," He hears Oikawa shift.</p><p>The boy stands, right under the falling dusk, back against the glow and eyes unseen. Gingerly, he whispers, "If I can keep this <em>one</em> alive."</p><p>Before Tobio could raise questions, they are interrupted by the shuffle of Tsukishima's shoes. It squeaks against a bump, the grace of his movements a little out of balance. He ganders at the pair with a bored blink. Step by step, he makes his way right beside Tobio's shoulder.</p><p>"Is the grumpy princess finally ready to go again?"</p><p>"Yes, your highness. I apologise for the delay." Tsukishima deadpans.</p><p>As if whisked, the murk in Oikawa's eyes disappears. What emerges is a glare, partly annoyed and mostly resigned.</p><p>"It'll take a while." He reminds. When he trundles back to the gaunt tracks, Tsukishima sneakily breathes out a proud huff.</p><p>The end of their journey places them right in front of a familiar shed. Once there, Tobio immediately peers for signs and hints, taking in every writing he sees on the unkempt walls. The corners had been covered with dust and cobwebs. The posts, though sturdy, groan a little when Oikawa pokes at it. With their phones fully charged and up for flashing lights, there was no excuse to miss out on anything important.</p><p>"Didn't notice it before, but Aito and gang would definitely find this place attractive."</p><p>Oikawa treads behind him, scoffing at a drawing Tsukishima had pointed his flashlight at. Tobio peeks from his side of the wall and sees a crude sketch of a penis.</p><p>"Looks like a few broken souls did too." Oikawa comments. He points his phone at a different angle, where a bright, largely drawn heart shows a rift in its centre.</p><p>"<em>Eiji is a cheater</em>." The caption reads. Snickering, Oikawa proceeds to look for its other half, "<em>Aoi is a slut</em>."</p><p>"Love triangle, eh?" Tsukishima mocks.</p><p>They regard the smudged drawings that followed its outlines, squandering their time on a couple of misspellings and stained shapes. Tobio steers away from their focus, scanning on walls for anything less profane, obscene or vulgar. Most of the place had been splattered with it - some more offensively unfunny than others. Oddly enough, it's the right kind of setting for Tsukishima and Oikawa to get along. </p><p>"Anything from your side?" </p><p>Tobio shrugs at the older, "Nothing." </p><p>Diverting his gaze, he dips his head down to inspect on the lower parts of the post. Oddly enough, the carvings in them only had two or three inscribed profanities. What mostly covered the expanse were names and wishes - chaste, pure and intimate. Tobio surmises the <em>writers</em> had mostly been good friends. </p><p>He dawdles on the wooden canvas with less judgement. Cartoonish artworks, imperfectly drawn faces, misused quotes and pretentious poems - admirable, but nowhere near what Tobio would deem significant. It is only when he cranes his neck, a little higher, that he lands on a faded doodle not quite like the others. Two stick figures, huddled close together in an imitation of a shed, with rain pelting down on its frayed rooftops and -</p><p>
  <em>Kei &amp; Tobio </em>
</p><p>-written at the centre.</p><p>"What?" Oikawa notices his haunting silence. </p><p>When Tobio fails to give a reply, too stunned for any syllables, Tsukishima walks up to him. Oikawa copies his movement, frowning.</p><p>Wide eyes follow the streak of light from Tobio's phone. Slowly and hesitantly, their sight land on the same spot. </p><p>"Are you sure you guys didn't plan this?" Oikawa jests, lighthearted. But the rigid arch of his shoulders say otherwise.</p><p>Tobio doesn't spare the blonde a second glance.</p><p>"No." They both say.</p><p>*</p><p>At twilight, Tobio plays another track. The tape whirs in his hand. Like a ripple in the water, its song gyrates. On and on and on - a nonstop chorus on repeat.</p><p>
  <em>Tobio falls into a deep sleep and rises to the greeting of a small, unfamiliar room. Across him stands a lonesome fort, blankets bunched together by a clothespin and taut topes. Bare cushions were splayed under a lamp, where two gangly arms cradle it close to a heaving chest.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Who are you?" Tobio asks the boy. He looked close to five, perhaps even younger. Doe eyes, small nose and feathery blond locks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Be quiet." The child shushes. He puts a thin finger atop the arch of his dry lips. "They'll hear you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alarmed, Tobio carefully treads towards the boy. "Who?" He kneels in front of him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"There's a monster in this house." The little one whispers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Something clangs from behind the tall doors. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"A monster?" Tobio parrots.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> A piercing clatter follows. The boy flinches, chin low behind his bent knees. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Go." He warns. "It'll hurt you too."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tobio leans closer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'll stay," The promise sings.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then, chorusing, thunderous clamours bellow at them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tobio winces, startled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Cover my ears." The boy instructs. Tobio obliges without question. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He feels a gentle pat around his shoulders, two kind hands hovering close to his cheeks before cupping his ears. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'll cover yours."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Patiently, they wait together.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tobio's palms rest on the boy's thin cheeks. He feels, with his touch, the coldness in them. And when he stares, mystified by the boy's silver skin, the coldness melts. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Tobio." He calls, quaint. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tobio hitches. The boy's hold tightens.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He sees him moves his lips in a sweet, timid smile. When he speaks, all Tobio hears is a ringing lull.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Desperate to hear the younger's words, Tobio begins to fidget. He tries to pry the hand away with a nod, eager to listen. But even as the palms fall and the boy continues to speak - the calm persisted.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I can't hear you." Tobio tries to read the bleary whispers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"That's okay." Finally, the sound returns. "I'll tell you when you come back."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dumbstruck, Tobio repeats, "Come back?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You will, right?" The boy asks shyly. "You promised after all."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Wha -"</em>
</p><p>Three blaring horns shout back at Tobio. They clap and roar until - Tobio wakes up to the chimes of his alarm.</p><p>*</p><p>Dawn welcomes the weary. Tobio welcomes it back, jeering.</p><p>He's crankier, meaner, and - if probed one more time- unhinged.</p><p>"Is there something going on that we should know about?" </p><p>The only one strong enough to test his patience is Sugawara-san. But Sugawara-san is an exception. <em>Always</em> an exception.</p><p>So Tobio tells him, more compliant, "Nothing."</p><p>Anyone else would have been easily discouraged by the blatant evasion. But Sugawara-san is far from the run-of-the-mill upperclassman. </p><p>"I saw you." His silence teases. "You and Tsukishima. <em>That</em> night... you were walking home together."</p><p>"Oh." Tobio mutters. "And?"</p><p>Sugawara-san purses his lips. "Are you...?"</p><p>His intuition screams at him to seek for Tsukishima - already dreading a question he might not be able to dodge. Tensing, he braces himself for an accusation.</p><p>"Are you guys dating?"</p><p>"Ha?" Tobio blinks, mouth agape. He waits for laughter to erupt, for Tanaka-san's boisterous taunts to ridicule him. But all he gets is Sugawara-san's solemn expression.</p><p>He sputters, face pinched, "We're not." He speedily refutes the silly claim in a higher pitch, "We're not dating. I just happened to see him that night and I - <em>uh</em>, well - homework!" </p><p>Sugawara twitches, flabbergasted.</p><p>Tobio continues in a more placid volume, "I asked him to help me with homework. That's why you saw us together."</p><p class="">"If you say so." The older appears sceptical but, "Listen, there's no judgement here or anything, you know that right? "</p><p>"I'm telling you it's not like that." Tobio flatly denies. "We're not like <em>that</em>."</p><p>Sugawara-san hums. "Well then, if that's how it is, I shouldn't hold you up- we have to practice as much as we can before the training camp, after all."</p><p>The words catch him off guard. "Training camp?"</p><p>"Ah, Kiyoko-san didn't tell you?"</p><p>Tobio shakes his head.</p><p>"We're going to attend a training camp." Comes the easy reply. "In Tokyo."</p><p>*</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. INTERLUDE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>errors ahead. have a good read :&gt;</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Are you there?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Are you there?</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>The ride to Tokyo is a long one. It's slower than the rumble in Tobio's stomach and drowsier than his restless mind. Deprived of good breakfast and peaceful sleep, Tobio curses the dimly lit and <em>barely-there</em> leg space Tsukishima has left for him. The bus sure is stuffy, but Tsukishima's long, spindly legs make it all the more unbearable. Had Tobio known his tardiness would result in such a punishment, he would have willingly stayed up all night just to prevent misfortune.</p><p>But, as they all say, lucky is the man who gets up earlier than the bird. Tobio discovers much too late the great importance of punctuality.</p><p>"Stop fidgeting, you're annoying me." The thin, unapologetic whine of Tsukishima incites another scratchy grumble from Tobio.</p><p>He makes a gesture of defiance, toughening his muscles to bump them against the other. The spread of his legs gains him leverage and Tsukishima fights against the push of his knee with a lamer force. When the bus steers from a sharp turn, the force doubles and squeezes Tsukishima right into the tarnished corners of the window.</p><p>"How immature." The blonde mumbles darkly. Under the foggy shade of a 3 am sky, Tsukishima's glare pierces brighter. It snarls with vengeance, heavy lids ready for attack.</p><p>An argument is sure to form, but Tobio's rationality is running on a short fuse - his energy for banter even more limited. There wasn't a spare to back up Tobio's intended rebuttals. His stomach seems unable to handle any of that, seeing as it kept lurching in distress during the whole ride.</p><p>Tobio really shouldn't have skipped on breakfast.</p><p>"I know you hate life on a daily basis, but even this face is offensive." Tsukishima doesn't hold back on teasing the <em>fun</em> out of his pinched scowl, even going as far as clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.</p><p>"Yours is still worse." The bite is abrupt but it is not too well-thought. It lacks a distinct snark unique only to Tobio and it warrants a surprising concern from Tsukishima. If the rest of their team had been awake or out of their seemingly eternal doze, the bus would have been in quick turmoil. Leaving an unlikely pair (with a penchant for trouble) unsupervised should not have been <em>this</em> peaceful.</p><p>Luckily, <em>and</em> not too luckily, only Tsukishima notices the malaise.</p><p>"Are you okay?" The summary of Tsukishima's unvoiced care echoes in haste. He shows a seamless front of nonchalance. His tone's edge is softened by concealed disquiet. When he regards Tobio with a careful glance and notes the lethargic blink of Tobio's lids, his brain clicks in smart recognition.</p><p>"Don't you <em>dare</em>," Tsukishima warns. He curls his body inwards, scurrying further and further to the edge of his seat where feathery tufts meet a cold, frowzy pane. "Don't you dare barf on me."</p><p>Frantic and jumbled, Tobio's cheeks bloat. He gags, sensing the crawl of bile in his throat. Tobio clutches on his stomach as he bends forward. There wasn't much of a ruckus from their side of the bus, only the frenzied rustle of plastic bags and Tsukishima's repeated chants of disgust.</p><p>Thankfully, a clean, white plastic catches Tobio's vomit just as the wheels hop on another bump. Not so thankfully, the sore in his stomach persisted. With the stagger of a newborn mule and the vigour of a leaden cat, Tobio falls flat on the blonde's lap.</p><p>"You – <em>Oi</em>! Get off of me!" Tsukishima's shock whispers harshly. Two rigid legs shake him, apace and entirely unsure. Even in Tobio's clouded mind, he could still make up the boy's fluster.</p><p>"D-don't move." Tobio grits his teeth. He lets his weight dangle on the other's thighs, frail fingers close to dropping the stained plastic bag. It's the desperate plea of his voice that convinces Tsukishima to comply, albeit grudgingly. Seconds later, Tobio hears the boy huff in resignation.</p><p>"I'll give you 2 minutes," Tsukishima says. Wincing, he ties the ends of the bag and slips it beneath Tobio's seat. "After that, either you drop to the floor or I'll throw you out the window myself."</p><p>"Thank you." Tobio's raspy voice returns. Really, he is grateful for the consideration.</p><p>Tsukishima hums out a hesitant acknowledgement. Planting his soles flat to the carpeted ground, he leans an elbow on the window's threshold. Tobio follows his gaze on impulse and finds the scenic glow of dawn pour over the blur of verdurous planes. They whistle, disturbed by a cold breeze that reaches even in the thin hollows of the unopened windows. When Tobio cranes his neck, he sees the fine details of leaves tower over Tsukishima's features. It casts a tranquil shadow on the drowsy tilt of his chin and paints him with sublime hues. Like this, Tobio sees him at peace, away from the troubles of the world.</p><p>Tobio guesses it would take him a while to sight a clearer picture of Tsukishima though. The rays may set the skies alight and dip him in crystals, but Tobio thinks he would still remain a picture of uncertainty. Like an outcast, a departing shape from the normalcy where no one and nothing can ever fully capture his oblivion –or <em>maybe</em>, Tobio is just sick and his mind is going off on tangents.</p><p>Whatever the case, Tsukishima is sure to not mind it one bit. Tobio wishes he could feel the same.</p><p>How was it like? To be so disconnected from the word and not have an inkling to fit in? To not have a place at all?</p><p>Tobio doesn't know. But, Tsukishima appeared so certain about it.</p><p>"You'll fry your brain if you don't stop thinking."</p><p>Misty yellow meets the blue haze. Tobio gawks at Tsukishima, befuddled.</p><p>"You're thinking about it again, aren't you?"</p><p>Tobio's sleeves rumple slightly from a brisk shift. "It seems like I'm more concerned about it than you are," With a swift swipe of the tongue, Tobio cleanses his lips of the bitterness –only to replace them with a venomous sting, "Aren't you scared?"</p><p>"Of what?" queries the eyebrow.</p><p>"Of dying."</p><p>It's a strange subject to breach, stranger still to pose it during a bland, stupor ride. But Tobio has learned to not decline a conversation when it matters. Though Tsukishima usually parries the spontaneity, he acts otherwise to Tobio's question.</p><p>"Why should I? It happens to everybody, doesn't it?"</p><p>Tobio opens his mouth to object, ready to berate in his own, awkward fashion. But as the bus jostles again from a quick turn, he feels a quaint tap land on his shoulders. He catches something before the wheels fasten in advance, clasping a flat, black phone in his palms. The bright screen greets Tobio's bleary sight. It blinks with a startling buzz, the green icon of a music player quelling immediately in his hold.</p><p>"Sad souls?" Tobio reads the title out loud. Tsukishima speedily retrieves the phone from his grasp. He does it with a hiss as if to scold Tobio.</p><p>"Your time is over." The stingy reminder announces. "Get moving." Tsukishima makes a fancy wave of the palm to instruct the other.</p><p>Tobio obliges absently, but not without a tactless musing, "Your music is depressing."</p><p>His comment doesn't earn him a scowl. It gets him a deadpan look instead.</p><p>"Thanks, it goes well with your face."</p><p>Tobio dodges the taunt with a bold request, "Let me listen to it."</p><p>"And <em>what</em> gives you the right?"</p><p>"I need to distract myself with something," Tobio answers easily. He pats on his stomach, a loose fist on the edge of his black jacket, "Unless you're okay with another vomit bag."</p><p>Tsukishima's face contorts. It goes through a transition - a phase filled with discomfit, morphing into outright resistance, before finally, retiring to a petulant frown. There is still hostility in Tsukishima's movements, but they are dampened by his rare display of kindness.</p><p>"Just one song." The blonde grumpily replaces his headphones with a thin striped string. The back of the buds sparkle with a modest shade of silver, one glittery firefly for each. With a sulk, he pushes the rubber into his ear.</p><p>Tobio patiently waits for the other to fall on his lap, the rhyme of his breathing chiming along with the pitter-patter of the rain. Once put in place, <em>outside's</em> cacophonies drop to a muffled volume. Gradually, they shrivel and fade. What replaces the hush is Tobio's new company - a small, rounded button that caressed his eardrums every now and then.</p><p>Tobio hearkens to the song with heightened scrutiny.</p><p><em>Sad Souls</em> was a bit of an understatement. The melodies of Tsukishima's playlist did well to uphold a melancholic reputation. He should have known the boy would be one to listen to slow, mellow beats. It suited him well. By a surprising extension, it suited Tobio's taste too. Something about the hangdog tune makes Tobio feel less of an intruder and more of a guest in Tsukishima's bubble. And though they resound with a murky feeling that settles firmly in his lungs, it still brings plenty of serenity. There's an abundance of wiry voices too –some a little old to recall, others too foreign to name. But they sing about a collective message.</p><p>Tobio fantasises about the stories they tell. Perhaps, they chant about a traveller on a hostile trek? A sailor on a deserted island? A man adrift at space? Two torn souls in search for company? The possibilities are outlandish, but they are played too simply in his imagination.</p><p>Tobio cannot fully describe it. He just knows there is a weight of repose in the rhythm. Whatever the rustic lyrics meant, they sync well to the strumming of Tobio's heartstrings.</p><p><em>Absence</em>. The only thing Tobio senses at the moment is absence. No misty air to breathe, or heavy snores to smother, no dark horizons or tainted window panes - just pure and utter absence. <em>A lack of everything but a bit of something.</em></p><p>Eventually, one song turns into two. Then to three. And as Tobio feels a meek thump on his shoulders, wispy blonde locks close to the arch of his nape – the songs played indefinitely on repeat.</p><p>Tobio ponders, what adventure Tsukishima lives.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>I'm going to dream again,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My head is starting to float,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'm wonderin' about the skies,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The currents of the wave,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will the tides align?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If I bind my feet to ground,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will my sorrows drown?</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>They arrive at their destination with slightly misshapen cheeks and red zipper tracks on their lids. Tobio wakes up a groggy mess, wildered by the commotion of his snickering teammates.</p><p>"Good sleep?" Sugawara-san emerges from the gaping audience, a dumbstruck gaze covered only by a thin veil of inattention. Tobio surveys his smile through the leaden flutter of his lashes. He suspects that the older had already planted a ridiculous assumption in his head. If there’s anyone more acutely committed to their guesses, it’s Sugawara-san himself.</p><p>Tobio notices the knowing lilt in his voice as he cocks his head, one heavy company on his shoulder. He peeks at his peers with muted annoyance. Shaking his shoulders, he tries to wake up Tsukishima. Almost immediately, the blonde stirs in his unmindful rest, opening a lid with childish resistance.</p><p>"Did Sleeping Beauty have a good sleep on the Prince's shoulder?"</p><p>It's Tanaka-san who speaks through the cries of imaginary cicadas. His smirk is wonderfully defined, dipped in mischief and howling taunts. Whatever he has to say next, Nishinoya-san is sure to follow with a quip of his own.</p><p>"How lucky, I wish I had me a prince too~" A streak of orange spikes up in amusement, goading the idle pair with an exaggerated simper. Nishinoya-san had the gall to swoon.</p><p>Animatedly, and with a fumble, Tsukishima pushes away from Tobio's side. His face colours in a mad shade of red, clumsily blinking away the fog of his unfocused eyes. Yamaguchi gives a careful poke from his place behind the seat. He giggles hesitantly as if torn between sparing his friend from further humiliation or jumping in on the fun. When met with a weak bristle, however, he chooses to sympathize with the blonde.</p><p>Hinata is a different breed though - his reactions to things even more incomprehensible. What he finds new, he glares at with scrutiny. This time, however, he's nothing short of an incredulous mime.</p><p>"What?" Tobio crankily meets his soundless blink. The short boy studies him, from his tousled hair to his scruffy jacket, squinty-eyed and huffy.</p><p>"Someone's a little jealous," a whisper titters. Tobio points his sight at the farthest edge of the bus, where he sees Kinoshita simpering. The boy is saved by Ennoshita's lighthearted jab to the rib - truly a man with tact and honour.</p><p>Fortunately, Daichi-san also rushes into action to aid the other. He treads towards the troublesome pair and chides them with a lour, dark enough to alarm Sugawara-san and shut down the dedicated larks. Brimming with a trademark akin to a stern commander, Daichi-san's burly shape towers over the rest of the team. The addition of a steely hush was all it took for them to finally exit the bus.</p><p>Tsukishima obliges first, swifter than his halfhearted blocks and poorly-executed serves. Pulled by the gravity of stomping soles, Yamaguchi gracelessly trails after him. Their departure looked similar to a sprint, acting as a grim reminder for Tobio.</p><p>Sugawa-san would <em>never</em> let this pass, and Tobio just about dreads the discomfort he would soon have to face. Worse, he would have to come up with a good clarification to rectify whatever the older instilled in his mind.</p><p>"Are you sure nothing's going on between the two of you?"</p><p>Strangely enough, it's Hinata who brings it up. There's a noticeable squeak as he quizzes Tobio. Short of any delicacy, he even dares to regard him with a dubious squint.</p><p>"What do you mean?" Tobio amuses gingerly. He has to be vigilant. Hinata may be dense, but his shrewd intuition is a force to be reckoned with – a force he'd have to be stupid to undermine.</p><p>"You looked too close for comfort there."</p><p>"He fell asleep, what's so weird about that?"</p><p>"But," Hinata jerks his head, "You didn't push him away."</p><p>Tobio's steps hasten, "I fell asleep too."</p><p>And with that, he ends the conversation.</p><p>Hinata lags behind him, stunned. Five seconds later, he finally registers the other's words and squawks at Tobio in a typical, belligerent fashion. Curiosity forgotten, the two fall to their usual pattern. Volleyball then banter. Milk or soda. Volleyball again. Banter some more. Then on to the next. Trivial as they may be, their talk never falters. It travels a long, unwinding string of chatters. Toss and mock. Spike and baulk. Gripe and jape. Just the usual for an unusual pair.</p><p>
  <em>"You feel it too, don't you?!"</em>
</p><p>– until a rough cry permeates the air and pierces through the listlessness.</p><p>Strands of blue and orange whip around to meet the tumult, startled by the sight of a boy clad in a slim-fitted jersey with a tight grip on Tsukishima's lanky elbow. The blonde stands helpless, shaking his head and muttering torpidly to the boy's firm hold. Whatever his company had been insisting did not spark anything from Tsukishima's recollection.</p><p>"What's going on?" Tobio hears Hinata draw a puzzled breath. Perturbed, he drags his sleepy legs and warily evades the parting crowd of other teams.</p><p>Tobio promptly follows the small imprints of his sneakers, pace composed though partly disconcerted. The seniors have thought to do the same with a bit of urgency. Five grand strides later, they're accosted with an awry breeze and Tsukishima's unnerved plea for help.</p><p>From up close, Tobio could see the veiny muscles of the stranger's arm. It circled around his limp wrist with a tenacity never before seen. He displays an earnest stubbornness, one too arduous and similar to the stark zeal of his gaze. The eager colour of his tone stresses a look reminiscent of desperate yearning.</p><p>When Tobio studies him more carefully, his throat constricts with unbidden sympathy. The tremors in his bones settle, met with a dawning realisation that the boy looks close to <em>crumbling</em>.</p><p>"I'm telling you, I don't know you –"</p><p>"Are you sure?" A rueful voice insists. Even with his impressive build and valiant height, the boy appears to be anything but confident.</p><p>The longer Tobio minds his disheartened slump and windswept hair, the heavier the pity weighs on his chest. Was it the wobbly furrow of his temple? The dolorous clicks of his gritted teeth? Tobio is unable to pinpoint exactly what he notices, understands <em>or</em> feels. What he can suppose is that whoever this boy is and whatever his intention means, his presence is a <em>something</em> Tsukishima needed to remember.</p><p>"Please let go my of my hand." –Except, there's not a hint of familiarity in the boy's reply.</p><p>Tsukishima carries that same air again from days ago - a domineering declination to everything and everyone. He doesn't have qualms about his response, displaying a collected front that seemed mostly peeved than affable. Although, the blonde never really had any reservations for being an asshole on a daily occurrence. Tobio readily presumes Tsukishima would act as stringent about the unwanted approach as expected.</p><p>"Bokuto-san." A monotonous call, one levelled to perfection, probes the raging unease. The stranger ignores his teammate's beckon, sinewy limbs fixed on their spot against the dusty surface and along the arches of Tsukishima's stiff shoulders.</p><p>"Let him go Bokuto-san."</p><p>Bokuto, as Tobio vaguely hears, sags with an inconsolable pout. "Akaashi...but –"</p><p>"I think <em>we'd</em> appreciate it very much if you listen to your teammate." Daichi-san's orotund warning drifts into the ether, ricocheting around its stilted currents before finally, weighing on Bokuto's shadow. The boy reluctantly relents, face struck with a dampened fervour.</p><p>"I'll see you around." Bokuto departs with a lighter stress in his words. He retreats toward the distant gloom, where a grim, lofty gate welcomes, marring the spot he once stood at. Footsteps heavy with dejection and eyes diffident, the boy finally disappears from the gawking crowd's view.</p><p>Tobio sees as Tsukishima exhales a breath of relief, finally ridding himself of the unwanted touch. Just as quickly as he had recovered from the shock, his apathetic facade falls into a ghastly flush. With a fleeting glance, he peers at his hand, the stain of a palm too warm on his wrist.</p><p>"You really don't know the guy?" Sugawara-san inquires cautiously.</p><p>Tsukishima latches on to the reddening marks. With an easy shake of the head, he replies, "I've never met him."</p><p>Something about the sour unrest believes otherwise.</p><p>*</p><p>The promised <em>'see you around'</em> happens much too soon.</p><p>Bokuto-san stalks after Tsukishima, anytime and anywhere – at practice, where he sends him committed side-glances, during breaks, where he spends the rest of his breath hooting away the guilt of having been caught staring longer, and even at lunch – where he sits brazenly by Tsukishima's side with two munching cheeks as prime entertainment. He’s almost like a dog, twitching and jolting to whatever movement Tsukishima makes, tailing close behind with not a second spared to falter. His diligence is laudable –the verve of his pursuit even more enticing up close.</p><p>"Stop following me around!"</p><p>Suffice to say, the blonde is not amused.</p><p>"Talk about consistency." A cheeky side-comment escapes from Kinoshita's awestruck mind. He sits, beside a separate table with the rest of the seniors. A grain of rice sits in his chin as Tobio sees him sheepishly cover his blunder with a sleeve.</p><p>With a terse, ominous glare, Tsukishima cautions the whole canteen from offering uninvited input. Not that he needed the remarks. Tsukishima understands his predicament very patently.</p><p>"Not until you talk to me."</p><p>"Never," the ironic contradiction pervades, cajoling the older into beaming proudly.</p><p>It’s only one word, but he seems happy with whatever Tsukishima replies. A grit that unyielding is unfathomable. From the gist of it, it's obvious Tsukishima is both half-impressed and half-upset by the older's adamant company. No one has ever kept up with Tsukishima's evasion and made it this far without a few scratches to their ego. Hell, no one has ever made it this far without conceding. Yamaguchi had been the only exemption to that – but he has always been a favourite among the few, chosen folks Tsukishima allowed in his bubble.</p><p>Whatever force of nature Bokuto-san is, he sure made for one stubborn entity.</p><p>"Why do you want to talk to <em>stingyshima</em> so much?" Hinata invades the guarded tension with genuine interest. His plate clatters as he examines the pair, palm flat on the table's edge. Subtly, Tsukishima squirms under his pensive stare, "How'd you know about him?"</p><p>There's a sound screech in their table as Tsukishima's spoon halts mid-air. With a shush, the whole air turns into a stretched pause. Tobio casually scarfs down on the last bits of his meal, two agog orbs flittering between the pair. He notes the tremble of Tsukishima's elbows –how they creak and harden, then loosen in a gradual sag. It's evident the boy is invested.</p><p>"I..." Bokuto begins. The glee in his eyes dwindles as his face turns solemn, fit for a captain. He leans his elbows on the table's rounded edge. With the swift way he transitions from a bubbly puppy to a serious-minded character, the first-years could not help but lean forward in anticipation. Unsmiling, the older gathers their undivided attention and continues, a tad bit huskily,</p><p>"I think it's fate. It's telling me something I shouldn't miss."</p><p>One, two, five ringing cicadas later, the table erupts into disappointed groans. Tsukishima looks the most displeased, straightening his limbs and heaving himself up for a smooth exit – perhaps away from the snickers of eavesdroppers, or from the odd, bizarre existence that was Bokuto-san. Tobio surmises it might be both.</p><p>"Ah! Hey! Where are you going?"</p><p>Not so unexpectedly, the older perks up from the speedy motion. He readies his legs for a jog, plates clattering.</p><p>"Tsukki! Tsukki!" Bokuto-san's hurried cries spread throughout the halls. It tracks Tsukishima's retreating steps. Bouncing and jesting, the repeated calls vibrate. And just as rapidly as they emerged, the yelled name fades into a squeaking drone.</p><p>Hinata cranes his neck, for once perplexed he isn't the one caught in an uproar. "Well, that was weird."</p><p>"You're not going to follow him?" Tobio turns to Yamaguchi.</p><p>The boy evinces a mirthful giggle, "Tsukki needs more friends. The call of Fate, remember?"</p><p>"You believe in that stuff too, Yama-kun?"</p><p>Sticks click as Yamaguchi faces Hinata's wide-eyed query. He shrugs, brushing his lax arms against Tobio's.</p><p>"We're all pulled by something, aren't we?"</p><p><em>Pulled</em>. That’s a unique way to describe it. Like a force of gravity. To and fro, back and forth or however you want to call it – in the end, you're destined to land somewhere. Though, whether or not it was where you wanted to be is not for fate to decide. Fate, in Tobio's eyes, is a fickle mastermind. It leaves you with one arduous path to venture and plants you with the promise of a future – but it never assures about the possibilities that await at the end of the trek. It <em>just</em> pulls to the next destination. And the next. And the next. Like god's calculated tracks, there's a predestined step before the ending.</p><p>Still, Tobio wonders, if there's part of that pavement that people get to revise. And if there is a second of freedom to control it, could one simple alteration rewrite the whole path?</p><p>"Something on your mind?" Yamaguchi waves a hand in his sight. The gesture swayed with a lazy shake.</p><p>Nodding, Tobio mumbles, "Nothing. Just..."</p><p>Yamaguchi adjusts in his seat, humming out a vague noise to accompany the suspense.</p><p>"Just?"</p><p>"I'm wondering about what I could change."</p><p>*</p><p>Lunch transitions to three long hours of tiring matches then soon moves into a late, grumpy evening. Aching from the rigorous penalties, dinner ends early for the worn and haggard players.</p><p>It's a sore day for everyone. Though some thought better than to waste away the small bit of respite. The training was strenuous for sure, but it didn't stop teenage boys from shuffling in their sheets and throwing cards at each other.</p><p>Karasuno did not shy away from doing the same, albeit more animatedly.</p><p>And no matter the many reprimands Daichi-san charily advised, the room stayed flippant. Pillows were in disarray and trivial topics swirled around with not a stutter. The bags, once neatly arranged, were now pushed messily to the corners of the room and replaced instead with a makeshift fort.</p><p>Chirpy, sloppy teenage boys at the brink of exhaustion but still persistently excitable – it wasn't a scene Tobio wanted to be in. So he wisely distanced himself from their erratic antics, eager to burrow in the warmth of his duvet.</p><p><em>No time for tomfoolery</em>, as his alarm suggested.</p><p>But, his pillows proved to be insufficient for the ruckus. Two palms did not do well to smother it either. The blankets served as his last resort – that too, failed miserably. Tobio is <em>imprisoned</em> in a never-ending fun he didn't want to be a part of.</p><p>So of course, he does what he does best and escapes the situation with little misgivings to offer. Hinata yelpdbat his sneaky exit, but Daichi-san is gracious enough to save him from the struggle. He knew how much Tobio treasured sleep. </p><p><em>"Don't stay up too long out there."</em> </p><p>Tobio, unaware of his alternatives, obliges carelessly.</p><p>The peak of his unrest now brings him to the empty halls of the campus. At last, he's finally alone.</p><p>"Why do people like to follow me around?"</p><p>A grouchy voice quickly invaded that serenity. Tobio pivots, welcomed by the glowing eyes of his intruder.</p><p>He scoffs as he sees Tsukishima reclining against the bannister of the staircase, folded legs against his chest and a sharp glint in the frames of his glasses. Moonlight crawls to his frail figure. Where darkness peeks, his blinking glow covers. Tobio cannot, for the life of him, fathom how much of ghost Tsukishima acted. Emerging and returning. Like a skulking phantom of the night. Tobio must admit, it was rattling for his poor heart.</p><p>"The room was noisy."</p><p>"So you just had to choose this particular spot?"</p><p>Tobio bristles, "It's the only exit, you presumptuous asshole."</p><p>The blonde snorts, "How nice, you've finally updated your vocabulary."</p><p>"You–"</p><p>Just as Tobio readies to bicker, a high twitter disrupts the sour air. It chimes a few more times before Tsukishima notices the ringtone as his.</p><p>Sluggishly, he taps on the button, "What?"</p><p>
  <em>"Not even a good evening?"</em>
</p><p>Tobio jerks from his place by the window, instantly recognising Oikawa's huffish tone.</p><p>
  <em>"Put me on speaker."</em>
</p><p>Tsukishima complies without much objection.</p><p>"So?" He asks a moment later.</p><p>
  <em>"I found something...in one of the pages,"</em>
</p><p>Out of impulse, Tobio decides to move towards the other's side. He situates himself near Tsukishima's bent knees, one step below as he eagerly awaits Oikawa's words. The older had sounded conflicted and if Tobio were to guess his face, he might be able to guess how serious his discovery must have been.</p><p>
  <em>"Looks like your brother has a secret lover."</em>
</p><p>Tobio feels a shift as he heeds to the static buzz. Beside him, Tsukishima squirms, clearly daunted.</p><p>"What makes you say that?"</p><p>
  <em>"I'll send you a picture later. What I need you to know right now is that the guy's a total weirdo. It's good your brother broke up with him before it got worse."</em>
</p><p>"Guy?" Tobio blinks. "Him?"</p><p>
  <em>"Ah – shit, sorry – I should've asked first if it was okay to say that –"</em>
</p><p>"Don't be." Tsukishima assures blankly. "If you didn't, I wouldn't have known either."</p><p>
  <em>"Oh."</em>
</p><p>A dusty gloom falls over the silence. Minutes later, Tobio sees the blonde gather himself with a soft, sickly cough.</p><p>"So? What's with the ex?"</p><p><em>"H-he, well, uhm –" </em>Oikawa fumbles to regain his composure, <em>"The guy's got some issues, kept pictures of your brother, stalked your house – he's obsessed, I tell ya."</em></p><p>"You think he's the <em>shadow</em>?" Tobio helpfully inquires.</p><p>
  <em>"Might be. Problem is, even Kei-chan hasn't heard of him so we don't have much clue to back up the connection."</em>
</p><p>Tsukishimaignores the new nickname for fear of interrupting the conversation. He tips the phone and lays it flat atop his palm, eyes open to the dimness of the hallways.</p><p>"You really don't know anything about the guy? He must have at least talked about him once or twice."</p><p>The blonde huffs faintly, "Nii-chan tends to lie a lot, so I wouldn't count on his stories."</p><p>
  <em>"Can you really not think of anything he said that might have been important?"</em>
</p><p>"We don't..." Tsukishima nibbles on the inside of his cheek, "We don't really talk that often."</p><p>
  <em>"You think you can ask him about it?"</em>
</p><p>The blonde let out a sharp breath of protest.</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah, thought so. I guess we just gotta look into this guy ourselves."</em>
</p><p>"He sounds dangerous. Aren't we risking too much here?" Tobio poses.</p><p>
  <em>"It's more dangerous if we don't know who we're dealing with. We just need a name and a face to keep Kei-chan safe. As long as we know who to avoid, we'll be fine. Besides, it's not like I'm proposing we confront this guy head-on. If push comes to push, I'm gonna call the authorities."</em>
</p><p>The plan is convincing. It didn't require any kind of tasks or unnecessary contact with the guy. If the ex-lover turns out to be the packages' sender, they could easily get to a resolution. Seeing as nothing bothersome or threatening has happened to Tsukishima yet, Tobio might even conclude it as a stupid, juvenile prank to set unease. He hopes that were truly the case.</p><p>"And how are we gonna do that?"</p><p>
  <em>"We might have to do some background check on big bro – things Kei-chan can't provide us with. I already checked his social media. I have to say, your brother really knows how to gain an audience. He's got a huge following in all of his accounts."</em>
</p><p>"Found anything suspicious?"</p><p>
  <em>"Not much. Just a lot of pretty pictures. His friends like to mess around in his comment sections though."</em>
</p><p>"Why not start with that?"</p><p>"With what?" Oikawa and Tsukishima ask in unison.</p><p>Tobio turns to find the blonde staring at him inquisitively.</p><p>"I mean, you must have met some of his friends right? He was only hiding his romantic relationships from you, wasn't he? Play the odd man out – you point at a face you don't know and we can start with them."</p><p>
  <em>"What if it's one of his friends?"</em>
</p><p>"That's unlikely." Tsukishima corrects. "Most of his friends are already taken. I've only conversed with some of them a few times, but nii-chan has shown me the pictures."</p><p>
  <em>"It's settled then. Let's go with that."</em>
</p><p>"It might take a while though."</p><p>"What do you mean?" This time, it was Oikawa and Tobio who chorused. Even with the notable distance, Tobio could still hear the older's bitterness roll off.</p><p>"I don't follow my brother."</p><p>An indignant squawk makes it through the static lines,<em>"Who doesn't follow their family's account?!"</em></p><p>Tsukishima plays with his phone strap as he replies, plain and uncaring, "I didn't think it would be of utmost importance to do so."</p><p>
  <em>"Well, it is now. Jeez, show some interest, your life is at stake."</em>
</p><p>"<em>Might</em> be at stake." Tsukishima intones.</p><p>
  <em>"A threat is still a threat. It may not happen now, but who knows how things will eventually turn out."</em>
</p><p>Tobio listens as Oikawa deepens his voice, frank and stern.</p><p>
  <em>"Keep an eye out for a shadow."</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Last night's worry dissipates almost speedily with the baffling realisation that the ever aloof Tsukishima Kei –is fond of cats. The adoration connivingly risks his teammates for a measly nine lives.</p><p>Hours earlier, the only thing on their minds had been to catch fresh air - cursed by another penalty climb towards the upward slope. Now, however, they're stuck to catching dumb cats on old trees.</p><p>"A little higher!"</p><p>Hinata whines angrily, two flailing arms dangling close to a fall. Tobio, ever the unfortunate, carries the boy on his shoulders for safety's sake.</p><p>It's a risk he can't bear to take. If he isn't careful enough, they'd lose more than a few limbs (it's an exaggeration, but so is Tsukishima's unreasonable demands).</p><p>"He can't go any higher!"</p><p>"What, so shrimpy can jump over a net but can't reach another branch?"</p><p>The question drawls nonchalantly, almost as if Tsukishima is picking on his nails and leaning on one leg. Tobio nearly explodes with displeasure when he's met with the exact view.</p><p>"You come here then!" He yells at the blonde. Hinata yelps as his support wobbles. "You're the one who wanted to save the cat."</p><p>"You said you'd help."</p><p>"Help. We didn't mean we'd do it for you."</p><p>"T-that's it! I give up!" Hinata leaps from Tobio's hold. He stomps violently as his feet meet the ground, two red palms stinging. "Do it yourself, you ungrateful bastard!"</p><p>Surprisingly, Tsukishima doesn't snap at his brief tantrum. With a confident saunter, he takes long strides and expertly hangs an arm around a thick branch. The leaves rustle from the disturbance, shaking wildly as Tsukishima hooks his legs around Tobio's shoulders without any warning.</p><p>Tobio stumbles out of shock, glare sharpening. "You'll pay for this."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah ~" Tsukishima replies absently.</p><p>The brown-tailed feline hisses as their lofty height nears the tip of the trunk. Tsukishima shushes it with gentle care, taking his sweet time to fawn over the frisky white whiskers.</p><p>"Did you get it?" Hinata bounces from his spot.</p><p>"Almost there," The blonde heaves a breath, tipping closer to touch the paws, "A..almost there–<em>shit</em>!"</p><p>Within seconds, Tsukishima leans too far from the twigs and slips away from Tobio's shoulders. As if in slow motion, Tobio feels the breeze frost with a gnarly cold. Slowly and slowly, he watches as blonde locks cascade down the air's shifty currents.</p><p>
  <em>"KEI!"</em>
</p><p>A strong gust of wind knocks Tobio off his trance. One bellowing gasp escapes through the wide slope and suddenly, Tsukishima is safe and secure in the unfamiliar embrace of a boy. Tobio sees a glimpse of olive skin and tousled hair – dark eyes and a pair of thin, worried brows staring straight into Tobio's soul.</p><p>The boy is miffed, Tobio realises.</p><p>"You guys ought to be careful." Rooster-head struggles to keep his voice composed. The edge of his tone is laden with great disapproval and his smile, though coy, oozes with discontent.</p><p>Tobio clears the dryness in his throat, "I–"</p><p>"Tsukki!"</p><p>Tobio hears Yamaguchi yell from behind the grassy pavement. He sees the boy sprint towards them, puzzled by the small crowd gathered around the old bark.</p><p>"You can let go now," Tsukishima says. His arms circled his stunned shoulders, desperate to keep the embarrassment at bay.</p><p>Rooster-head regards him with unsure brows, grip almost familiar, "Are you sure? You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"</p><p>"I'm fine." Tsukishima answers quickly. He calculates his steps as he nears Tobio's side, an arm around his elbows. Then, as if struck by an eerie realisation, he narrows his eyes at the boy.</p><p>"How do you know my name?"</p><p>The boy stiffens. He fiddles with the hair on his nape, sheepishly evading the blonde's gaze. Tobio feels his instinct perk – stirring, they instil an unrelenting prickle in his stomach.</p><p>"I-I...<em>uh</em>, I saw it by chance. Your last name was too long for me to shout so –"</p><p>"Tsukki!" Finally, Yamaguchi reaches them, just in time to save the older from slipping. He leans his weight on Hinata's head, a sweaty temple glistening under the leaves poor shade.</p><p>"What happened?"</p><p>Hinata stammers an explanation, "T-Tsukishima fell and then rooster-head somehow...caught him?"</p><p>"Rooster-head...?" Yamaguchi's breath hitches. "Kuroo-san?"</p><p>"Yes, that's me. I'm glad someone knows my name."</p><p>"W-why is Kuroo-san here?"</p><p>Kuroo-san shifts from the obvious suspicion. Ruffling his hair, he lets out an earnest chuckle.</p><p>"Don't mind me," he says, grinning easily, "I just happened to pass by when I saw these kids climbing the old tree – I knew there was going to be some trouble so I came as fast as I could." Lilting his voice, he adds, "Next time you do something so reckless, you might as well do it good to save yourselves the struggle. Flightless crows are helpless in air, ya know?"</p><p>Tobio takes the bait like a mindless fish. Hinata joins him in unison. They send the Nekoman captain their most affronted objections, quick to wage a battle. </p><p>"Well then," The older puffed his chest, close to cackling. His gaze lingers on Tsukishima before retreating back into the building. With an abstruse pause, he adds, "See you around."</p><p>Tobio takes a moment too late to realise he'd meant to say it to Tsukishima.</p><p>*</p><p>"You think he got a package?" Tobio brings it up to him that late evening. They sit, on the same spot, stuck at the same staircase and glued to the same bannister. A phone vibrates as Oikawa replies to them through the stable line.</p><p>
  <em>"Maybe. Maybe not. Calling Kei-chan by his first name and passing it off as a fluke sounds too suspicious." </em>
</p><p>"It's a little unlikely for him to receive a letter." Tsukishima muses. "Whatever his reason was, it didn't seem like he knew much about my supposed death."</p><p>Tobio's wrinkles loosen. "But he still knows something about you."</p><p>The blonde scrunches his nose, "I can't deny that one. Seriously, am I getting famous or something?"</p><p>Oikawa snorts audibly. <em>"For all the wrong reasons. Hell, anyone who knows you right now either knows about your death or is going to be responsible for your death."</em></p><p>"I wouldn't be surprised if it'sboth." Tsukishima sighs, "But, I'm still betting all my gold on the prank theory."</p><p>"Really?" Tobio scoffs. "Two strangers just approached you out of nowhere. The other claims to know you and the other one somehow likes calling you by your first name. It's either your prankster is one dedicated asshole or you're just in denial."</p><p>Tsukishima frowns at him. "I'm not in denial. I very much entertained your murder-theory, didn't I? All I'm saying is, there's not a single soul in this planet who'd even care enough to perfectly craft some 15-year-old's murder. Why the hell would anyone waste their time like that?"</p><p>
  <em>"You never know."</em>
</p><p>The blonde evinces a sardonic chuckle. "Yeah right, the only one committed enough to plot my murder is <em>Kei</em>."</p><p>A drop of silence dribbles down the still waters. Tobio feels his lungs constrict, as if dunked in the absent ripples.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>
  <em>"What was that? What did you just say? Kei-"</em>
</p><p>Tsukishima frantically snatches the phone from Tobio's grasp and ends the call. Three lonely beats later, he heaves a breathy sigh.</p><p>"You -"</p><p>"That was nothing." Tsukishima interrupts. He stares at Tobio, icy gold pleading. "It was just a joke."</p><p>"It didn't sound like one."</p><p>"My taste in humour is different," Tsukishima explains. They hear the ringtone sing again and the blond begins to move. </p><p>"O-oi!" Tobio mindlessly grips his wrist out of panic. "Y-you..."</p><p class="">The moon glimmers at them again, a little less subtle than before. Ghostly whistles travel through the barren halls and Tobio, short of breath and brimming with concern, gazes deep into the boy's hollow orbs. </p><p class="">"You know you can talk to us, right?" He offers softly. Flushing at his own words, he proceeds to mumble the rest, "O-or it doesn't have to be me. But I'd be willing to listen -"</p><p class="">"Thank you." Tsukishima whispers. He retracts his hand from the other's grip. "But as I said, it was just a joke."</p><p class="">He doesn't wait for Tobio to insist otherwise. And as the boy drowns the rest of himself in the embrace of the dimness, the protests louden.</p><p class="">*</p><p>
  <em>"What was that? Why did Kei-chan say that? Let me talk to him -"</em>
</p><p>"He already left." </p><p>A sinister pause. Then,</p><p>"Oikawa-san, have I told you about my dreams?"</p><p>*</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. INTERLUDE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been quite a struggle to complete this chapter. I had to take several breaks because of unexpected interruptions. I deeply apologize for such long inactivity and I hope that I will not disappoint you with this update. </p><p>Nevertheless, I hope this will be the last time I have to deal with any delays in my writing. Thank you and take care &lt;3 I hope you may have a wonderful read with this one :&gt;</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Did you do it?</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Tobio is drowning.</p><p>Or, at least it's what he perceives of this uncanny dream.</p><p>He is deep in the waters. Every inch of him feels its haunting stillness, its ripples, its tranquillity -the phantom kisses that cling on his fingertips, the vibrations, slight and stilted, slithering inch by inch into his ears, and the frost of death tipping him to the lure of abyss.</p><p>In the gaping hollows, where he is embraced by the coat of dark, ominous black, Tobio is lonely. He hears nothing and speaks nothing. He is adrift, a foreign, insignificant figure placed at the vastness of the sea's embrace.</p><p>There is no sound but the bubbling ripples above him. Miles, miles above him. Only the flitting shadows of muted rays grace his skin. Tobio tips his chin forward to see the galaxy unfold before him. Above, the smudge of silver and the interweaving dust of space are pale and mute. They shine still - but not in the spellbound magic it once had. To Tobio they are lonesome, a desert teeming but a desert still.</p><p>Below him is a greater terror. Below him lurks a monster unseen. It is nothing and everything. A monster that haunts without ever baring its fangs. Tobio feels it seep through the sunken chasm and he figures there might be a grave moulded for him there.</p><p>Tobio does not fight the tide that pushes him. He senses no pain and floats, pliant even as the invisible waves drag him to the void. Tobio knows he is drowning. And he cannot fight against it.</p><p>Down and down he goes. He sinks, ever so slowly, a disposable existence for the currents to sweep. In this dream, Tobio is awake to witness his demise. In this dream, Tobio does not feel anything.</p><p>Tobio is empty. He closes his eyes to spare himself the grief.</p><p>
  <em>"I'm here."</em>
</p><p>A feeble caress nudges him. Almost like a plea, it brushes on the flailing tresses of his nape. Tobio heeds to the call, exhaling bubbles through bated lungs. He tenses as vines creep up to his elbows, his legs, his immovable toes and twitching fingers - all around his bare body, the vines circle, no thinner than the thread of a spider's web.</p><p>Within a moment's call, he is forced to greet the end of the depths.</p><p>What meets him is a child. Wide-eyed. Thin lips. A placid ghost of the sea.</p><p>
  <em>"I'm here, Tobio."</em>
</p><p>Tobio only stares as the timid palms cup his cheeks.</p><p>
  <em>"T...tsukishima?"</em>
</p><p>He is appalled by his own voice, coarse and insecure. Its volume resounds an echo to the deaf emptiness of the sea.</p><p>The young boy nods at him. Much despondent. In no more than a few pull, Tobio is in the full embrace of a frail, small child. Thin fingers card through the free strands of his hair, as if they had never been in the control of the fragile ripples. Then, as the spectre recoils, Tobio faces a sullen face. It is doused in the flush of bruises, the pallid canvas marred with the drips of ugly, ugly blues.</p><p><em>"Hold my hand,"</em>  Tobio tells the child. <em>"We'll be fine, I promise."</em></p><p>The boy believes. Without doubt. Without fright. Ten, sickly fingers twine with his. And Tobio feels the grip crush him with desperation. Like this, they are safe.</p><p>Like this, they are nothing and everything all at once. Hidden. Unnoticed. They are under no one's scrutiny. No malice to faze them. No cruelties to hurt them. They are still as the waters.</p><p><em>"We'll be fine,"</em>  Tobio repeats.</p><p>He returns a promise with his two nimble hands. Gingerly, he guides one to pat on the child's head, on the frightened arches of his shoulders, along the dips of his lids and the trail of crystal tears. He basks in the dead frost, just to feel the curl of yellow feathers, the flimsy veil of his apparition, his delicate cling, his lulling pleas - all dissipatebeneath the callouses of his palm.</p><p>Tobio holds on to an illusory figure, the mirage dissolving before him in golden clouds of dust. They linger just by a second.</p><p>Only to vanish in the grasps of the sea.</p><p>As if transient.</p><p>
  <em>"I'm here."</em>
</p><p>Even then, he hears the boy sing.</p><p>
  <em>"Tobio, I'm here."</em>
</p><p>Even then, he hears his weeping.</p><p>
  <em>"Why can't you see me, Tobio?"</em>
</p><p>The wisps of his vanishing illusion speak.</p><p>
  <em>"You promised I'll be fine."</em>
</p><p>And then, as he vanishes the same, he wakes to the chimes of the crickets.</p><p>Tobio gapes at the darkness of the room and realises it to be nothing like the deep sea. He gathers the familiar colour of white and red, the keeking lumination of the moon and the snores of peaceful slumber.</p><p>He blinks, once, twice and opens his eyes to the same place. The same ceiling greets him. The same dimness hovers over him. The same people surround him.</p><p>"This is real." He whispers to himself. A strain of tired air escapes his lungs. The weight of strong currents no longer haul him to the dread of oblivion, freeing him from the tethers of his nightmare.</p><p>"What's real?" Another voice whispers to his musings. Tobio jumps, out of the thin covers and flat pillows. He responds to his new company with a muffled yelp.</p><p>"<em>Shh</em>!" Hinata warns him. Behind his shoulder is Yamaguchi, feverish, electrified and unsure all at once.  "Don't panic or they'll hear us!"</p><p>"If you talk more, they just might." Tsukishima appears too - not as a figment of imagination but a real, tangible reminder of a dream. He nearly leaps just at the proof of its realness. Though he is taller, older and much insincere to the world - Tobio still sees the remnants of a weeping child in him.</p><p>Hinata disrupts him from falling into abstraction with just the whistle of his hiss. He gestures carefully as if to politely shoo the boy away.</p><p>"Not now, smarty-pants. Take your snark outside and wait."</p><p>Tobio whips his head at that. "Outside?"</p><p>"Hinata and I found a pool." Yamaguchi advances to his left- fortunately devoid of splayed limbs or eavesdropping light-sleepers. "It's hidden behind the gym, just out of sight. We stumbled upon it one time and saw it unlocked."</p><p>"You're going there." Some quiet shuffling rumples Tobio's blanket. Yamaguchi kneels before him, eyes sparking in a fervent eagerness that Tobio has never seen the boy display. </p><p>"No, <em>we're</em> going there." The boy corrects.</p><p>Tobio arches his brows, perplexed by the oddness. Yamaguchi has never been one to break the rules. The boy is yet to willingly plunge into trouble no matter the low risk of punishment (if there is one meant to admonish kids from trespassing pools). The impulsive venture he is set on trying seems to be more of Hinata's influence than his own. And yet, for Tsukishima to act so unfazed by the uncharacteristic spontaneity - Tobio is beginning to think his initial judgement of the boy is mistaken.</p><p>It's not a shift, Tobio notes. Yamaguchi's kind and guileless disposition are earnestly ingrained in his mind that he cannot readily imagine him a sly, sometimes devious rebel of the sanctions. To be frank, Tobio finds it impressively baffling. The boy sure could be seismic in ways.</p><p>"So? Are you coming?"</p><p>Once again, Tobio is jerked out of his thoughts. This time, Tsukishima is the one to demand his attention.</p><p>"I'm a little surprised you're being compliant."</p><p>The blonde shrugs at him, yawning. "I couldn't sleep anyway."</p><p>"That doesn't warrant for a mischief." Tobio remarks, flummoxed.</p><p>Hinata shushes him again with a jab to the ribs. Step by step, he retreats to the hollows of the exit, weaving soundlessly through the lumps and bumps of strewn bodies. In his passive pondering, he realises much too late that Yamaguchi has already cajoled him out of his sheets. Only when he sees the trace of his shadows that he finds himself treading onto the moonlit hallways.</p><p>Somehow, he feels slighted for not having been part of any change in character. The temperaments of his company are skewed and he is beyond confounded by it to even utter whatever sort of speech. But more than that he feels uninformed. Had he known they are impetuous to such extent, he would have prepared himself for the troubles ahead.</p><p>"Too late now." Yamaguchi giggles. Hinata harshly whispers in the background, wincing as he stumbles on a baluster. Tsukishima, ever the unaffected, snickers at the expense of his discontent.</p><p>"You're stuck with us now, Kageyama." Yamaguchi adds. Their feet pass by another level, like fleeing whirlwinds about to wreak havoc. Yamaguchi's hands are a tight bind on Tobio's wrist.</p><p>"I didn't even get the chance to agree."</p><p>"Oh please," the boy huffs, "Don't mull over it too much. It's just a dip and dive. How bad could it be? We'll keep it a secret. Nobody will know."</p><p>"You can't be sure about that. What if someone sees us?" Tobio argues. There is a room at the end of the hall, it reverberates with a chorus of undisturbed snores. The boy anticipates the knowing look that will be thrown his way.</p><p>"From the <em>sounds </em>of it, I don't think anyone will." Yamaguchi asserts.</p><p>Tobio yields, albeit remorseful to their team. They skip on another step, low on oxygen but fraught with thrill. Finally, they reach the green passageway, crowded with crisp, baked leaves and arid soil.</p><p>Hinata beams at the group in a fascinated elation.</p><p>"I can't believe we're actually doing this." He says, honest and in awe. The bliss in his voice is hard to miss and the surge of excitement in them is translucent. Hinata, skipping on a train of twigs and pebbles, looks as if he's made the spike of his life with how proud he is of himself.</p><p>Tsukishima passes by him in a sluggish pace. He yawns again, "So obnoxious and it's not even morning."</p><p>Hinata hooks on the bait and wrinkles his face. "That's rich coming from you. You're crankier in the mornings."</p><p>As if compelled, the short boy races ahead of the boy. Tsukishima, not one to ignore the comments, hastens his steps to threaten him.</p><p>Yamaguchi and Tobio lag behind, content to ease into the novel breeze of a late evening.</p><p>"Once you see the place, you won't regret it." The boy promises.</p><p>He tilts his head and grins at Tobio. The curve of his lips is blinding that it almost battles the keen lustre of the horizon. He could just see it, Yamaguchi, playing a farce act of innocence as he preys on the unaware. Possibly a sly deviant, Tobio must say.</p><p>"You're still sneaky for this." Tobio retorts, though secretly fond. His friend shoots back a simper - not as deceptive as the ones he's sent him before.</p><p>"Come on," Yamaguchi tilts his head, chin pointed to the green clearing. A long and imposing dome looms above their heads. Much like an edifice, it commands their undivided regard. "Don't stall or you'll miss out on the fun."</p><p>Led by a string, they stumble onwards. The reeds graze their shins. Much like the ones in the meadows, Tobio revels in the tingle of their sways. Eventually, they quell their tracks. Hinata casts the sidelines a shifty glare, clasping tightly on the handles of the pool's entrance. Even from the outside, Tobio descries the softened streaks of moon radiance. The waters glow, reflected on the glass panes of a clandestine ceiling.</p><p>Bit by bit, the doors open wide. Hinata slips into the room first, surreptitious. Tsukishima follows, much careless as he pads his squeaking soles. Yamaguchi laces his hands with Tobio's fingers then, coy but tender, tugging him close behind his furtive steps.</p><p>Just as the doors are sealed shut, Hinata makes the brazen move to undress. He is left in his yellow trunks, looking every bit ready to holler in celebration.</p><p>"Last one to the pool's a sore loser!" Pumping his fist, the small boy sprints to the ledge and straight to the unmoving waters. He draws a large ripple. His impact is strong enough to disturb the serene currents. Three seconds after, bubbles emerge from above and Hinata resurfaces in his clumsy, heaving, soaked glory.</p><p>Tsukishima snorts at his shrivelled stated. "Didn't expect some to get in your nose, did you?"</p><p>"No," Hinata coughs out a pathetic whine. His quaking fingers fasten themselves on the slippery ledge, eyes squinted from the beads of water cascading down his forehead. "Now I feel like a loser."</p><p>"They can still hear us, you know that right?" Tobio reminds the group. A playful nag flicks him on his temple.</p><p>"Don't worry about it," Yamaguchi comforts. "This place is almost soundproof because of the chirpings outside."</p><p>The boy lets go of their intertwined hands and treads to the pool's steel ladder. Yamaguchi effortlessly yanks off his loose shirt. The boy wears brown, shorts visible even in the blue, luminescent water.</p><p>"Come on, you guys. It's not that cold." He merrily motions to the indecisive two.</p><p>"Actually, I'm fine with just a toe-dip." Tsukishima stands beside his left, a handbreadth away from the edge.</p><p>In three ginger strides, he sits atop the tiled perimeters. With his bare toes, he checks the temperature of the water and, as if satisfied, he unfurls his legs from their taut fold. The humble waves crash into his thin limbs, circling around each before settling down. Almost pacific, he wiggles his legs around. The pace of his rhythm is near motionless, signalled only by the wet ridges.</p><p>As if attracted by the peace the action brings, Tobio chooses to do the same. He sits beside the other and parries the curious looks with a drowsy shrug. "I'll stay here too. To keep guard."</p><p>He copies the other's tempo. Back and forth, back and forth, he swings his legs, evincing wrinkles after wrinkles into the stray expanse.</p><p>"Boo you <em>bummers</em>." Hinata harrumphs. He narrowly dodges a splash as Kei kicks water to his face.</p><p>"We're not like you fishy gremlins." The blonde sneers. Tobio creases his brows at the novelty of his insult.</p><p>"Fishy gremlins?" He parrots, blinks rapid. Impishly, Tobio tilts his head. "Creative."</p><p>Tsukishima gapes at him, shrewd enough to pick up on his funny inflection. "I'd like to see you come up with something better."</p><p>And of course, Tobio is prepared to dispute the attack. "Anything's better than fish and gremlins smartass."</p><p>Just then, their prime mediator pops in between them. Yamaguchi wags his hand midair, sketching a division to interfere whatever the two stirred.</p><p>"Now, now, just admit you guys are scared." The boy's smile is balmy. His eyes are anything but. They shine in mischief, almost roguish. And before any of the two could even bother to recant their statements for fear of a reprimand, or do otherwise to correct the petty accusations -</p><p>Hinata already has his frisky arms on Tsukishima's ankles. Tobio looks down to see that Yamaguchi's are tight on his as well.</p><p>"Don't." Tsukishima starts warily.</p><p>"Don't what?" Hinata laughs at him.</p><p>"If you dare pull me off this edge I swear to god I will- <em>shit</em>!"</p><p>Tobio doesn't get the chance to relish the other's misery when Yamaguchi heaves him straight to the waters. He fights better than Tsukishima but even he falls pathetically.</p><p>Down and down he goes. With no minute to spare of air to breathe, Tobio grabs the nearest hand out of instinct. The fingers he clutches are long and bony. In the embrace of the water, it is almost ghostlike, filmy twigs that are yet to disappear. Tobio holds on to it as if prompted. Slowly, the fingers match his grasp and out comes through the drifting bubbles is Tsukishima.</p><p>It's a scene reminiscent of the dream. Just when he thinks he has finally forgone with the idea of it, its misty afterthoughts and whimsical promises no more than a chimera - Tobio is submerged into complete trepidation. All he has to feel himself real is Tsukishima's existence. Faithless, inconstant existence.</p><p>They're stuck to boundless dimensions -a reality warped. This isn't a dream anymore. But a glimpse at Tsukishima, calm, immobile Tsukishima, Tobio fears it is.</p><p>Water sinks them. Tobio could only read the words Tsukishima mouths to him. Like this, they feel lifeless. Sent astray. Descending deeper and deeper into an uncharted void.</p><p>Hegawks as the boy seems to whisper. Bubbles form and float in between the dense spaces. Tobio dictates his arms to move against the streams and cups the boy's cheeks. Tsukishima stares back at him, frozen in place. Their clothes flounder profusely, attuned to their bodies descent. They do no breathe anything but the water.</p><p>Something sizzles at the tip of Tobio's fingers. He senses the same from the other. A shred of shared recognition. A welcome. An impression that they are reliving one dream together. That they hear and see and know the same things as one, fused <em>soul</em>.</p><p>
  <em>"I'm here, Tobio."</em>
</p><p>The ringing in his ears augments. They combust, and within an instance, the pause they never noticed veers and halts. Deprived of second musings, they surface back to the water, away from each other's grasp. Tobio hears a gasp and perceives it to be his own. Their company swims close by, oblivious to the electric fright running through the erratic whirls and foaming folds. </p><p>Yamaguchi paddles his feet to meet them. His sniggering wobbles as he tugs on Tobio's sleeve, now perturbed. "Is something wrong? Did we go too far? I'm really sorry, We just thought you could use some fun a-and- "</p><p>"No," Tobio is quick to assure. "No. It's...okay. I, <em>uhm</em>, I got lost in my thoughts for a second. I'm fine."</p><p>He turns his head and meets the sight of Tsukishima draping himself over the loop of the ladder. The boy shakes silently, no gritted teeth that chatter or threats that grouse of revenge. Tsukishima appears desperate, immersed in placating himself from the shock that he's barely responsive to Hinata's worried pestering.</p><p>Tobio's limbs absently drift as he ganders at the other. Seconds later, the tremors in his bones loosen - <em>exhausted</em>.</p><p>"We're fine," Tobio says, apace. But his lungs betray him.</p><p>*</p><p>Tobio does not get the time for intense contemplation. He spends what spare minutes he has to decided over his approach now that he can confront Kuroo-san. Tobio is reluctant if he would be suitable for any friendly conversation. He is yet to master how to initiate one with his teammates so he surmises his hard luck on this situation. What and where he ought to begin with is beyond him.</p><p>It isn't as though the boy is easier to be near to. Kuroo-san is evasive even when he doesn't wish to appear so. There is always a barrier that deflects all of Tobio's chances, be it somewhere in the swamped cafeteria, the lonesome halls or the barren schoolyards - Kuroo-san is difficult to talk to. And the interruptions are more of the fault of the circumstances than his. Yet the older makes it believable that it is solely in his control. Even though in truth, Kuroo-san looks just as distraught to have missed many chances with the other.</p><p>It is most apparent they are in dire need of a long confrontation. It also most apparent it should have come sooner. But, <em>how?</em></p><p>Tobio chews on his lips and clenches on the lid of the bottles. He just about forgot his tasks because of all raging gears in his head. Tobio fears he's gone daft from such a hellish endeavour. Somewhere, at the back of his throbbing head, Oikawa-san's voice seems to agree.</p><p>"Kageyama-kun, your bottle is spilling."</p><p>The new voice cautions Tobio of the crowd around him. Jerking, the boy twists the sink's tap and sees the overspill on the ends of his shirt.</p><p>Akaashi-san kindly offers him a clean towel from the basket he's carrying. "Be careful next time." </p><p>"Thank you." Tobio returns stiffly. He pivots in his place to ensure he still has Kuroo-san in plain sight. The boy is by the gymnasium's entrance, cackling with his much-annoyed peers.</p><p>"Are you suspicious of him?" The question is bought without warning that Tobio stirs in his movement. He cranes his neck to meet the older's eyes.</p><p>"N-no. I...I wanted to ask him something." Tobio deters and corrects himself, "I <em>have</em> to ask something."</p><p>Akaashi-san hums at him, gaze smart and thoughtful. "Is this about Tsukishima-kun?"</p><p>Tobio nods. He feels scrutinized under the other's stare. It's quiet, but it bears a tumult in them that Tobio hopes he is not being judged with.</p><p>"Then," The older clears his throat. His posture is posh even when he sets down the lumps of towels to the uneven ground. Retreating, he picks a polished pebble and angles his elbow. "Allow me to do this."</p><p>In just the span of a millisecond, Tobio hears the slash of wind pierce through the tranquillity. He sees a dash of blank line evade his vision. Out it goes, into the open air and above heedless heads - the slick stone swerving and landing a scratch on Kuroo-san's unsuspecting knee.</p><p>Tobio blinks a few more times to make sense of boy's action. Secretly, he is impressed. Shaken, but impressed.</p><p>"Akaashi!" Almost in no time, Kuroo-san is advancing towards them. His brows are pulled tight and there is a deep scowl etched on his face. "What the hell was that?"</p><p>Akaashi leans on one leg, unimpressed. He jabs a finger towards Tobio. "He wants to confront you about your creepy behaviour. Tsukishima-kun's friend does not appreciate your leers."</p><p>The term elicits a snort out of Kuroo-san's lips. With how easily he transitions from a grumpy senior to a lost and befuddled boy tells Tobio the whole pebble-throwing is a daily occurrence. Perhaps it's a tradition of friends Tobio is not privy to. Some friendships do tend to share bizarre greetings and vague argots with each other.</p><p>"What leers?" Kuroo-san scrapes a sole to the ground, neck lolled to peek at Tobio. "He's not purposely trying to avoid me because of that, is he?"</p><p>Tobio avoids the frantic glances. "I-it's exactly because of that...unfortunately."</p><p>He hears croaky wince at the admission. Kuroo-san clasps a palm on his nape, repentant. "Figured that might be the case."</p><p>"Kuroo-san, you do realise you can get imprisoned for freaky misdemeanours. Don't be brazen and set a good example for your <em>kouhais</em>." Akaashi-san's reproach is flat and monotone. Even then, his prudence bellows like a threat. Tobio takes thorough notes not to poke on Akaashi-san's hostility.</p><p>Though the older holds a greater advantage in build and height, Kuroo-san shrinks under the other's glare. He gesticulates animatedly, sputtering. "<em>Tha</em>- I wasn't trying to be a creep, okay!" With a flustered pout, he pockets his hands and slouches in dejection. "I just...wanted to talk to him to like Kou does."</p><p>"Kou?" Tobio tilts his head, curious. The boy slumps further at the name.</p><p>Akaashi-san sighs and levels the accusatory tinge of his tone. "He means Bokuto-san."</p><p>"You want to talk to him?" Tobio clarifies. <em>That's it? </em>He wants to push. It can't be that simple of a reason to call someone so casually - and the boy had been too familiar with the other, too...accustomed.</p><p>Kuroo-san muffles a groan as if shamed by his own confession. "Listen, I know I've been a little weird but..."</p><p>"A little?" Akaashi-san quips. His friend squawks at him to pipe down.</p><p>"I didn't mean to act all shady." The older reasons. His hands no longer flail but he still squirms, disheartened. "Making him uncomfortable is the last thing I want."</p><p>Tobio is convinced by the candour laced within his words. He is still wary of him, fret not, but he is also forgiving. Tobio cannot deny the man a chance. Kuroo-san may be conniving, and often crafty - but all his accounts of the other's antics had been observed inside the court. Outside of it, he is just as caring as his seniors. Perhaps he schemes a lot, or jests too much and howls too loudly, and yet they are shown all for good fun - never ill-ridden or indiscreet to the people around him. Kuroo-san can be tactless as any teenager but he is also attentive, maybe even solicitous than most.</p><p>So, Tobio asserts his preconceived understanding of the man and allows his views profound reconsideration.</p><p>"Why do you want to talk to him?" He poses it kindly. Tobio is unskillful, so his start is inelegant. But he tries and that is all that truly matters. Sugawara-san says so.</p><p>Kuroo-san teeters. His eyes are skittish as he surveys the grounds. Softening a clumsy cough, he stares at Tobio, sheepish. "Is there any way we can talk about this in private?"</p><p>"Is the answer long?" Tobio asks innocently. He has yet to fulfil his duties. </p><p>"Yes." Akaashi-san provides for him. He lowers his palm flat and deftly heaves the basket up. "I should go. I've heard the story countless times it's a bore now."</p><p>He does not wait for Tobio's buffering mind to catch up. And just as covertly as he came, the older absconds, free of care or worry. Tobio begins to grasp the situation only when Kuroo-san ruffles his hair. The touch is callous but it boasts a homey support Tobio cannot help but indulge in.</p><p>"I'll tell you all about it. But not here."</p><p>Kuroo-san peers at the growing commotion. Boys scatter about in the open soil, hollering and prating about the trivial things. Their voices mingle harmoniously but they din, insouciant of their own disruptions.</p><p>"Let's go somewhere quiet, Tobio-kun."</p><p>Kuroo-san guides him away from the chatters. His grip is warm on Tobio's back, the push is soft even as he's led along the willow's row. Lulling wisps gyrate above, inveigling the idle and teasing the worn. Tobio dithers on the dented slopes of the route but he is at rest when he finally sights a straight, flat pathway adorned with glossy stones.</p><p>There is a tree that sheds, its trunk old and frayed. They sit on its cluttered roots, eager to delight in the humble shade the leaves gift them. No view but the smudged horizons entertain them. Despite it, Tobio finds that he quite enjoys the serenity. He is excluded, voluntarily so. Alien to the upheavals of the universe.</p><p>"I keep having dreams." Kuroo-san begins. The boy is crouched over a family of scarlet poppies. They tower over the purple monkshoods, performing a jaunty dance to the whistling air.</p><p>"Dreams?" Tobio pries on. His ears perk, eyes unblinking.</p><p>Kuroo-san nods at him, happy to be heard. "It plays out the same way over and over again. I wake up as a kid, a younger boy will greet me and then sit beside me - the both of us at some obscure, scruffy treehouse, gazing at the stars and naming each with our own, silly made-up terms."</p><p>A pause. A sigh. A scratch to the cheek and a fumble. Then,</p><p>"He would never fail to tell me something. About the space. The galaxy. How it's just one big mass of water...like a different sea. Every time, he reminds me about this supposed impermanence we have as humans. That we live beneath this wide, infinite sea and that existing in it meant we're at the deep bottom. A lot like drowning, he says."</p><p>Tobio gulps and quietly listens. Kuroo-san weaves a twin of wilting leaves, engrossed by his recollections. Maybe they are endearing for him. A nostalgic records of his most treasured memory.</p><p>"Every dream he talks about the same thing. He never leaves my side and welcomes me with the exact smile he leaves me with. I know his name, his voice, most especially his laugh - but somehow...somehow I can't put a face to his existence. My painting of him is distorted. Almost like he doesn't want me to see him. To <em>know</em> him fully."</p><p>"That boy," Tobio breathes out. "Is that...?"</p><p>"Kei," Kuroo-san confirms. "He said that was his name."</p><p>He continues on, not demeaning the time spent on his ramblings.</p><p>"You know how you sometimes get this itch that just won't go away?" He waits for Tobio to nod. "I don't know if this makes much sense but...I've been feeling that my whole life. I have this inkling, that there's something I'm forgetting. And that bothers the hell out of me. Every day. I feel like I'm missing a piece of me that's lost."</p><p>Deprived of repose or dispirited pauses, Kuroo-san shares to him a dream. It's fraught with care and trust, hopeful to earn Tobio's open understanding.</p><p>"I just know that I have to look for it, that I <em>have</em> to find it. And now...I feel like I have."</p><p>*</p><p>"What a moving speech." Oikawa hums at his recounting of the encounter. If Tobio had told it with much enthusiasm than believed of him, he finds that he does not care. Oikawa sounds just as taken with the story as he is, so Tobio is not too concerned about being deeply moved by it.</p><p>"Does that rule him out as a potential suspect?"</p><p>"Possibly. Although, if we go by technicalities, we all are suspects." The other end of the line is static. Tobio could vaguely make out the echoes of a volleyball match playing on the background. He hears a shuffle before Oikawa speaks. "By the way, why does it sound like you're in the bathroom?"</p><p>Tobio huffs at the frivolous question. "That's because I am. I can't risk Tsukishima tagging along."</p><p>"Not scared of the bathroom ghosts?" Oikawa taunts. The boy could almost imagine his smug smirk.</p><p>"As if." He returns and reclines against the toilet as though he is sitting on a throne. </p><p>"So any dreams today?" The dissonance clears and Tobio could discern the firm hint in the older's voice.</p><p>Tobio draws his knees close to his chest. Suddenly, the cramped stall feels much more spacious. "No. Just some random water nightmare."</p><p>Oikawa snorts. "Didn't think your dreams are that wacky." He yawns through the line, groaning as his stretched bones pop. Tobio discourages the urge to mock his age. "Anyway, that settles it then. Whatever dreams you're having is only triggered by the tapes."</p><p>"Have you tried listening to them yet?" Tobio reminds him of the package. He had it stored away in the safe corners of his drawers before departing for his trip. The boy hadn't thought it imperative then to bring the tapes along. Leaving them felt like a safer choice and Tobio is glad he had followed through with the hunch.</p><p>"I haven't gone to your house yet," Oikawa admits. Frowning, he adds, "Your mom doesn't seem to like me."</p><p>Tobio tries his best to console. Unluckily, his absent mind answers first. "Well, you were an ass to me back then so..."</p><p>"Can't deny that." Oikawa easily agrees. There is no objection in his tone, no malice or spite. Tobio shudders at the silence that drawls.</p><p>"Just talk to my sister," Tobio says it as a means to keep his sleep-deprived mind intact. He plays with his bare toes, uncoiling them from their persistent pressure as he instructs the older. "She's not one to care about my stuff. Chances are, you don't have to make up a valid excuse to get them."</p><p>Oikawa hums, askance. Something tells Tobio the older wishes to comment more.</p><p>"I think I'll do just that." He replies instead. The interest in the tapes seems awfully smeared. It stews in surprised displeasure, outright perfervid and impatient to talk of a different matter altogether. Tobio digests the implications but despairs on his incapability to welcome it. There are other issues to fuss over, he rationalizes. There is no reserved reprieve for unresolved discussions. <em>Only Tsukishima's.</em></p><p>Stirred awake by the delicate atmosphere, Tobio begins again. "About the...<em>alternative</em>. The -"</p><p>"Suicide?" Oikawa spells out. The older is yet to move on from the initial conversation, but he is respectful enough not to dwell on it. Tobio is grateful for the modicum of sensitivity he is willing to sacrifice. To have it applied to Tobio must be one, gruesome risk of pride.</p><p>"I have to be honest with you, Tobio-chan. With all the dreams you've been telling me about and Kei's last call, I think it's the most likely theory we have right now."</p><p>Tobio nibbles on his nail. He fleetly stops, conscious of his hands' condition for tomorrow's play. "Should we tell him?"</p><p>The bathroom is dead silent. It is more muted with Oikawa's hitched pauses.</p><p>"And risk it being true?"</p><p>"What's wrong if it is?" Tobio tightens his hold on his knees. His thigh prods his chest, taut. "If he admits to it we can talk him out of -"</p><p>"It's not that easy, Tobio-chan." The voice is dolorous, almost resigned to a fate unheard. Oikawa chooses his words well, proceeding <em>sotto voce</em>, "Listen, the chances of him confessing to it is close to none. You should know better, he's your teammate. If it turns out true and we tell him about it, he'd just lie to us."</p><p>"So we just keep him out of the loop?" The proposition is ridiculous, offensive even. Tobio is affronted on Kei's behalf. He's harried by it– by the sense of betrayal that resiles from the trust he has built with the other, the sentiments he insists to vouch for and the tiny spark of friendship that Tobio finds the most distressing to break apart.</p><p>"I know this is frustrating for you." Oikawa solaces. "It is for me. But we can't compromise anything. Not when we're talking about death."</p><p>"Okay." Tobio nods. He apprehends the imminence and gathers there is not much he can do about it too. Tobio has learned the repercussions of being obstructive, he wouldn't be so bold as to try it again. Not when he's found a home in the unparalleled support of his team.</p><p>Oikawa beckons him away from his introspections. He opens with a cough. For sure he has a hand behind his neck, ambivalent in whatever course of actions he wants to take. It's much too frequent for the man to do that. When dealing with people he finds dubious, Oikawa is quick to act conflicted around them.</p><p>With Tobio, he serves as a testimony.</p><p>"D...don't worry too much, yeah?" Oikawa exerts his darndest effort to sound unfeigned. "Take some rest, sleep it off –your brain cells clearly need it."</p><p>Tobio contorts his face at his poor attempt, sceptical. He appreciates how heartfelt Oikawa tries to be. But he finds it difficult to find even the most piffling sincerity behind the boy's succour. </p><p>"Since when did you start caring about me?"</p><p>"I never stopped," comes an honest reply. The steady insistence makes him resile out of unfamiliarity. </p><p>"What?" Tobio blinks.</p><p>Oikawa makes the wise choice to block the discomfort with a cloddish stammer. He coughs through the quiet, a patent and frenzied diversion.</p><p>"M-moving on –I just remembered something. I did some digging 'bout Kei-chan's family."</p><p>The shift in topic catches his focus at full tilt. Tobio hovers a chin over his bended knees, toes frigid from the invasive cold of the outside. </p><p>"Anything about the brother's ex?" Tobio asks.</p><p>"Not that one." Then, dropping his lighthearted tone, the older starts more solemn. "It's about his dad."</p><p>"Dad?" He distinctly remembers a detail about it. His talk with Yamaguchi, that one morning by the school's hall, has diligently resided in his mind. To this day, Tobio could still recall the inferences that troubled him. </p><p>"What about him?" So he urges, disconcerted. </p><p>The noise from the older's end is hectic. Tobio hearkens as Oikawa soundly stomps against his hardwood flooring.</p><p>"I have to go, dinner's early tonight." The boy exhales, pensive. "I think it's best you read about the details yourself, it's a bit too tragic to discuss it so lightly. I'll send you a copy of the articles I've looked into."</p><p>Tobio peers at his phone in a fretful examination. Articles? Tragic? What is the older trying to prepare him for? His unanswered queries are addressed with the abrupt drop of a call and a blue, bright link at the top of his notifications.</p><p>The first article he is sent is dated years ago. It holds a blurry picture of a river, the tides strong and murky that Tobio supposes instantly of turbulent weather. In it shows a group of men, possibly in uniforms, surrounded by yellow caution tapes.</p><p>Tobio skims through the short paragraph and lands his sight on the bold letters above it. The title reads:</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>FATHER DEAD AFTER SAVING SON FROM DROWNING.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>*</p><p>Tokyo is a hectic place with no other merits than its diverse and uncaring businesses. Tobio learns this much too belatedly when he is not given any repose to indulge in his forlorn reflections. There's not even a spare to sulk about missed chances. </p><p>"Don't be so grumpy now, Tobio-kun." Kuroo-san hangs a hand on his shoulder, chest bare and damp. On his side is Bokuto-san fawning over Hinata's unnatural diving technique. </p><p>"How did you even find this place?" Tobio mumbles, shy and crabby. He wipes a bead on his forehead when he is splashed with Yamaguchi's odd breaststroke, the boy in serious competition with Akaashi-san's dexterous swimming. Their halcyon is disturbed, <em>evidently</em>.</p><p>"Wasn't hard to do." The older explains. "Also, you guys make a lot of ruckuses. You're lucky it was us who saw you."</p><p>"You say that now but your noise is just adding more uproar." Tsukishima scoffs from his spot behind the ladder. He is clothed still from head to toe. The only show of skin peeks beneath the end of his black, admittedly skimpy shorts. He does the same motions as before, legs drifting off the ledge then back again. </p><p>Kuroo-san raises his arm as if hurt. "We would never risk your safety. That's why we're here. Besides, we got here first."</p><p>That part was true. It had been an unfortunate encounter, really. Neither Hinata nor Yamaguchi were aware other groups had taken interest in the place. Perhaps even earlier than their discovery of said building. Regardless, the seniors had been less inhospitable about it. If anything, they were more than happy to welcome them. Hinata, of course, taken by his admiration of Bokuto-san, did not have to think twice of the invitation. </p><p>30 minutes later, the five of them a soaking mess and the remaining two, hapless and unwitting victims of hasty pushes - the pool is irrefutably disturbed. Tobio and Tsukishima had been adamant to avoid any sneaks attack lest they wish to end up wet and shivering in the waters again.</p><p>Tobio must admit, it was funny to witness Tsukishima flounder about with his gangly limbs. He snickers under his breath at the mere reminder of it.</p><p>"You're having fun, aren't you?" Hinata appears before him, an orange blob of the early morning.</p><p>"Me? Fun?" Tobio surveys around just to assure the comment is for him.</p><p>Hinata chuckles at the expense of his confusion. "I could tell from your smile." Swiftly, he points to his own toothy grin. "I'm good at reading 'em."</p><p>"Dream on." Surprisingly, it is Tsukishima who rectifies the other. "The only time the King will ever have fun is in another world."</p><p>At that Kuroo-san bellows a cackle. His body shakes that Tobio is left with no choice but to go along with him.</p><p>"Don't you know, Tsukki?" The older says, smile wide. "There are other worlds out there." </p><p>"Other worlds?" Tobio and Hinata chorus, one mildly intrigued and the other committed. </p><p>"Yeah!" Bokuto-san chimes in. His elbow dangles on Hinata's head, threading through the mess of orange locks. "Kuroo and I have this theory. Down there, deep in the waters, is like a portal of sorts. They say if you reach the end of it, you can enter another world."</p><p>"So we're all connected to our parallel selves through them?" Tsukishima elucidates to himself. "Sounds ridiculous."</p><p>"Is not," Bokuto-san protests. "Even Akaashi believes it."</p><p>Tsukishima quirks a brow and sends Akaashi-san a thoughtful gaze. The older is still a distance away, guiding a sloppy Yamaguchi to his side. The rest wait patiently for them. They emerge seconds after and finally, the last of the crowd is assembled.</p><p>"You think the water's a portal?" Tsukishima asks the boy.</p><p>Akaashi-san hums without hesitance. "The universe is expanding. Half of the seas are undiscovered. Stupid people are famous online. There's a lot to life we don't really know about."</p><p>Yamaguchi hops on the ledge and contemplates over the proposition. Patting himself dry, he starts to ponder aloud, "I wonder how our other selves are doing."  </p><p>The boys stuck to the pool huddle towards the perimeters, formation close to a circle.</p><p>"I bet there's a world where Tsukishima is less cranky." Hinata poses, always the simpleminded contributor.</p><p>Tsukishima makes the grand effort to hover over the other and pinch his nose. Hinata struggles to free himself from the torment.</p><p>"And maybe, there's a world where you're actually smart." Tsukishima dithers at the probability. "No matter how contrived."</p><p>Hinata baulks at the jab and dunks his head. He emerges again, cheeks full as he playfully spits water on Tsukishima's shin. They get into a noisy banter that has Bokuto-san joining in on the racket. </p><p>"I wonder if some of me are dead." From the background, Yamaguchi adds an afterthought. The two seniors shriek at him in disapproval.</p><p>"O-oi, Yamaguchi!" Kuroo-san nearly whines. "Don't scare us like that!"</p><p>Akaashi-san is less bothered. He humours the younger's idea, uncaring of the horror it gives. "It might be a reality. If you think about it, of the many worlds that may possibly exist, one of our selves must have had a tragic death or two. Some may even be nearing theirs right now while we laze around the pool and break school rules."</p><p>"You guys must be fun at parties." Kuroo-san mumbles. The weight of his hand falls limp on Tobio's shoulder.</p><p>"<em>If</em> it does work that way," Yamaguchi emphasizes, "Wouldn't it be nice to get a little heads up? Who knows if the other world is just a minute too early."</p><p>Tobio perks at the outlandish conjecture. "You think what happens there might happen here?" </p><p>"As Akaashi-san says, there are a lot of possibilities." Yamaguchi insists. "What are the chances of one being real, right?"</p><p>"I bet there's a world where I don't exist anymore." From the sidelines, out of breath and soaked to his bones, Tsukishima admits to the possibility as though it were a simple truth. Light and breezy. A servile, passive recipient of an imagined reality. Sometimes Tsukishima scares Tobio.</p><p>"N-now, now," Bokuto-san intervenes before any tension rises. He carries a Hinata on his back and bares a handsome grin. "Let's not go there anymore. We're too young to think about dying."</p><p>"Kou's right." Kuroo-san berates the group. As if to shoo the gloomy aura, he waves his fists around. "No more sad thoughts. Let's all be stupid teenagers, okay?"</p><p>"I'm sorry," Tsukishima objects, petulant. "But I refuse to be called a stupid teena -<em>ack</em>!"</p><p>Before Tobio could eschew his fears and force himself to act as told, he sees the boy plummet 5 five feet under. He sinks then bounces up, cursing Bokuto-san with his most colourful vocabulary yet. </p><p>The spare hours leading up to the rise of summer rays is spent laughing endlessly at Tsukishima's misfortune. And though the experience is blissful to its very core, Tobio finds that a portion of himself remains bothered - threatened by an intuition he cannot do away with.</p><p><em>Stupid teenagers</em>, he still tells himself. Just for today, Tobio will be a stupid, ignorant, carefree teenager.</p><p>*</p><p>He fails to be one when the first practice match after, Tsukishima is called to the bleachers.</p><p>Tobio looks on out of concern and watches as Takeda-sensei lays a palm on his back, gentle as the whir of summer air. </p><p>When the court rings and no one from their side moves, Tobio decides to follow his team's uneasy probing. They crowd over the chairs, uncaring of the glances thrown their way.</p><p>"What's going on?" Sawamura-san is the first to ask. </p><p>"Is something wrong?" Asahi-san trails after him, skittish.</p><p>Takeda-sensei stares at the team and Tsukishima evades their fretful gazes. </p><p>"Tsukishima-kun has to go." </p><p>Sugawara-san knits his brows and dares a step forward. "What for?" He probes on.</p><p>Takeda-sensei takes a moment to reply. He nibbles on his lips and tightens his fists. </p><p>"Tsukishima-kun...His brother, <em>well</em> -he..." He sighs reluctantly. </p><p>Taking mercy on the man, Ukai-sensei decides to continue for him. His face is stern. A hint of panic hides in his eyes.</p><p>"Tsukishima's brother got into an accident."</p><p>It was all Tobio needed to hear to remind himself there's a not place nor time to be stupid. </p><p>*</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 0:00</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>forgive me for the long delay again, this chapter took quite a long time to write. i had only planned for a 7k word count for each chapter and this exceeded beyond that (10k to be exact). i hope you may be able to forgive any overlooked errors and as always, have a good read :&gt;</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>I did.</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Tobio paces himself to the rhythmic ticks of the clock with no real direction in his steps. It's midnight and Tsukishima is yet to return.</p><p>He is conflicted between placating Oikawa's frenzied calls and pacifying his erratic heartbeats. He does both in a hectic, simultaneous fashion - opting to answer the buzzes with a string of buffering messages and counting the intervals of his breathing. Understandably, Tobio is failing at both.</p><p>Every fibre of his being reeks of dread. The unsteady dips of his soles, their gripping consternation and fainthearted imaginations of <em>who</em>, <em>what</em>, <em>whys</em> and <em>hows</em>- consolidated into a singular cluster of disquiet. The clock strikes 1. A hangdog minute passes and in the fleeting seconds of its frame resides a rhapsodic foreboding of Tsukishima's absence. <em>Prolonged</em> absence, Tobio stresses.</p><p>The circumstances at hand are direly disproportionate to Tobio's ready wit. He likes to think himself agile, perceptive if in a pensive mood, but even Tobio is unassertive in the face of such troubling news. Because in all truthfulness, a surfeit of unfortunate surprises tends to break even the least timorous of people. Tobio is patently not an exception to that.</p><p>What he does exempt himself from is interminable incertitude. Or, as he elucidates it, being beyond the complaisant halfwit of <em>correct</em> regulations. There is a change in him this time, one he brandishes himself with presently. Tobio, despite the infinite account of his wobbly meanderings, has active defiance of the catastrophic future (and most especially a nonconformist of the <em>now</em>). Tonight, Tobio will not scramble from a handful of manageable scruples.</p><p>Tonight, Tobio will see to it that Tsukishima is with support. Unflagging, tireless and <em>dependable</em> support. Even if the risks entail disdainful sanctions on his end. No. None of that matters. Tobio has always known himself to be an innately impetuous child and he will flaunt that however way he wishes. Perhaps to the surest extent that he is amenable to any plans. Even if said plans require him to exit school grounds in the middle of a cold, summer night - not an armour on him but his unthinking mind and paper-thin garments.</p><p>He breaches the guarded ambits believing himself capable of just that.</p><p>Three long strides toward an entryway doom and he is an unconfined agent of the night. Tobio's blue-lit shoes shriek atop the grime of the tiled loops, begging to be otherwise.</p><p>This is fine. Tobio can take off on his own. He's accustomed to the cold too many times to care about jumping another fence without sleeves to keep him snug. His body certainly has met its fair share of troubles to even care about any scratches on his skin. He may not be the most acrobatic but he can leap a few layers of bricks. Yes, Tobio can do this. He is undoubtedly committed to the trespassing bits of running away. And if he is caught, he will bear the punishment of his actions with neither doubt nor regret.</p><p>"For Tsukishima," Tobio mumbles to himself. He's yet to fully exit the school grounds. Only one more gate to vault out off and he will be free to see the other.</p><p>One brick. Two bricks. Five then -</p><p>"You're not gonna get anywhere if you climb like that, Tobio-kun."</p><p>Tobio slips at the last row and lands on a heap of unplucked wild grass. He stands just as briskly as his fall, only to meet the burn of a stern gaze of him. Yamaguchi's shadow is small but livid. Next to him is a much apologetic Hinata, always the first to fuss and fret. The last Tobio surveys is Kuroo-san's presence, tall and assertive. His grin is tilted, eyes lazy but brimming with unrest. He displays his usual nonchalance like a badge of honours - and of the three, Kuroo-san seems the most unhesitating. <em>Seems, </em>Tobio corrects. The longer Tobio inspects him, the more he sees the slip in Kuroo-san's sure movements.</p><p>For sure, the gears in the older's head is turbulent - a tempestuous mind bearing itself under the guise of a tepid upperclassman. Kuroo-san may play the part of the airy, untroubled boy well enough to make his act believable - but he could be just as inconstant with it. Tobio knows the boy is a <em>thinker</em>. Someone who basks in the splendour of their high wits but also suffer from their torments. <em>Much like Tsukishima</em>, Tobio thinks.</p><p>"Kuroo-san." Tobio manages to greet the other with a levelled tone. He turns to the rest and heaves a sigh. Already, he expects a barrage of judgement thrown his way. "...and the others."</p><p>Yamaguchi treads into his clear view, figure clouded by the foggy streaks of streetlights. "Kageyama-kun, you're making some hasty decisions right now."</p><p>"I know what you're going to say." Tobio scowls. The indents of his spine cracks, his once slumped back now in a commendable posture. "But I won't listen to it. I'm doing this with or without anyone's approval."</p><p>"Not even Tsukki's?" Yamaguchi dares. His voice is even, gentle still as though not fraught with strictness. "You know, he might not appreciate you escaping school grounds just to visit him. Hell, I think he would berate you for invading his privacy."</p><p>"Maybe." Tobio shakes his head. The breeze whistles past them. "I'm still going."</p><p>Kuroo-san is the one to sigh at him. He rubs a sore muscle on his back, lids opened wide to absorb the dimness of their surroundings. "There's no talking you out of this, is there?"</p><p>"Nope," Hinata answers for him. His steps skip as he bounds over the last inclination. Within seconds, the boy is beside Tobio. "There's no stopping me either. I want to see Tsukishima too."</p><p>There's not a glimpse of any ruse in Hinata's eyes, not a lark or a quip to hint them of misleading antics. It's Hinata in his stony-faced, grave and no-nonsense proclamation.</p><p>Yamaguchi gapes at him. Then he blinks, <em>twice</em>, <em>thrice</em>, his glances shiftier than the last as he absorbs the two unsmiling boys before him. He hums his exhales and lilts them through a breathy chuckle, the drawl too frequently used to signal surrenders.</p><p>"I figure you'd do that." The boy says to Hinata, fond but querulous. Sighing restively, he stretches out a hand in their view. Tobio peers at the clenched fingers and sees the untangled thread of a thin, narrow rope. "That's why I came prepared. Someone has to keep you guys out of trouble."</p><p>"This doesn't seem like getting them out of one." Kuroo-san quirks a brow, lips amused.</p><p>Yamaguchi lightly laughs at the correction. "You really think I'd be able to stop these two from going outside? That's an overestimation, Kuroo-san. The most I can do right now is to make sure they're safe."</p><p>"I guess that makes the two of us." Kuroo-san chortles. He presents himself more maturely, no longer hampered by the very qualms he so desperately concealed minutes ago. Then, as if possessed by the calm, gusty air, the older adjusts his footing.</p><p>His stance is composed, knees bent and eyes focused. The grace in his pose is confident, eerily akin to the suave and deceptive plays that Tobio sees him boast to his friends and foes. In no more than two sprints and a blustery leap, the older lands a smooth sole atop the boundary's ledge, then into the ground and beyond. He appears swiftly from below the arch's rusting balusters, emanating a gusto Tobio could not help himself but fawn over.</p><p>"You guys comin' or what?" Kuroo-san regards the group's gawking with the slant of his lips, chin tilted. Even when he gloats, he appears natural. There's not a bit of him that looks ridiculous or vain.</p><p>"T- that was so cool! I wanna try it too!" Hinata is the first to cheer his smooth escape, hands stuck to each other in a muted applause. Even Yamaguchi, dead set on precautions seconds ago, clutches the rope more loosely in his grasp - as if to mean the same as Hinata's eagerly voiced desire.</p><p>"No need for that." The older is fast to shut down the impatient bounces. He taunts them with the wave of his hand, keys jingling around his curled finger. "Took the keys from the coach this morning. Just wanted to do a stunt for the hell of it."</p><p>Tobio nearly scoffs at the debonair smirk thrown their way. <em>What an utter show-off,</em> Tobio absently muses.</p><p>Kuroo-san chuckles at them in a nonchalant fashion. "Part of the charm, kiddo."</p><p>With the way his snickers drone, Tobio surmises the older must have read his thoughts an ample amount to draw sound conclusions from them. He is not impressed by the perceptiveness though, not when Tobio is aware his scowls are not the hardest to decipher. They lack a distinctive range, as Oikawa once mocked.</p><p>Kuroo-san frees the lock in a slick and polished method. He opens it with the nudge of his toes. The gates screech when the spiked ends scrape against the entryway. It shakes, a resonant vibration maundering through the open. In its sweeping decline, the nearby bushes recoil with a fitful hiss. Kuroo-san winces at the clangour and morphs his face into one of apologetic playfulness.</p><p>Not one to stave off any chances of timed chaffs, Yamaguchi pokes fun at the older's oversight. "That part of the charm too, ol' man?"</p><p>Tobio and Hinata stifle a cackle while Kuroo-san only frowns at his well-delivered wisecrack, red-faced and disgruntled all at once.</p><p>"Just get out." He says with no real bite in his warning.</p><p>Hinata, fuelled by the undiscovered force of nature, sprints off without any headstart and yodels a dare, "The last one to the hospital will explain to Takeda-sensei!"</p><p>Tobio, always the most unnerved by unannounced competitions, darts after him like a rouge horse ready to gallop across the meadows. His soles are loosened, electrified and jolted out of their tethers. He drives with the intent to race ahead. Fists in the air, chin to the ground and knees just a flash of blue zigzags. His figure is a blurred, flickering streak enveloped by the glum of Tokyo's barren streets.</p><p>From afar he hears Yamaguchi's frustrated beckons and Kuroo-san's baffled stammers. Tobio decides to ignore their reproach and pushes on, arms spread and ready to fly. Whatever the winds may tell him, Tobio will not hearken to it. He only has one voice in mind and that is his own.</p><p>
  <em>For Tsukishima. Always.</em>
</p><p>"I'll win this time." Hinata has the gall to divert his path.</p><p>Tobio stomps his feet and hastens his speed, his victory just a kilometre away.</p><p>"Maybe next time." He taunts back. And just like that, he advances forward, only a metre ahead of the other. Whisked by the breeze. Gone with the silence.</p><p>Tobio's final destination places him right before the blinding welcome signs of the hospital's entrance.  He enters the bare four-walled halls without faltered musings. Straight he goes, pulled by the thread of his instincts that only spike up at the mere hunch of Tsukishima's nearing presence. Wherever he was, Tobio just <em>knows</em>. His peers lag behind him in a pronounced hurry. Though they appear unconfident of their direction, they are trusting of Tobio's lead. Perhaps, there is something in Tobio's demeanour that assures them.</p><p>Like a train of waddling, misplaced children - never straying or wandering far from the other - they tread on the same path, each with a prayer of their own for Tsukishima's well-being. The longer they persist, a fleeting smear of huddled bodies, the more Tobio notices the anxious silence. He dares a glance just as they brush past corner.</p><p>Amidst the hurry, Tobio recognizes himself to be the surest of the bunch. Kuroo-san comes close to second, lids lax enough to counter the agitation in his limbs.</p><p><em>Left, right, left, right</em> - pass another corner, evade another glance, smile at the nurses and... eventually, they come face to face with the sullen panels of the building's 4th left-wing. Tobio takes a while to process the environment. All white with lofty ceilings and thin, silver-rimmed edges. The handrails fastened to the walls are wooden, shiny under the line of radiant lumination.</p><p>Doors are shut. Noises are muffled. The numbers imprinted on golden plates exist only to reject unlooked-for visitors.</p><p>Tobio ganders at the spectral scenery and finds Tsukishima at the centre of it all.</p><p>The boy stares at them, wide-eyed, tongue-tied and soul stripped from its fortresses. He is dumbstruck, that much is palpable.</p><p>Tsukishima appears taller. Even when slender, his build is strong. Or at least, he <em>seems</em> that way. But Tobio sees more. His poise has a deception to it that Tobio forgets there is a small, frightened boy beyond all those robotic facades. Despite baring himself in his most unmistakable, conspicuous form, sometimes Tobio forgets to discern the distinct pleas that bellow from him.</p><p>The plain, clear signal for <em>help</em>.</p><p>"What are you guys doing here?" Even in his voice, Tsukishima asks for it.</p><p>"We're here for you." Kuroo-san answers to the stillness. Yamaguchi and Hinata nod to convey the same concern.</p><p>But Tobio - he does not speak. Tobio does not think. He moves. <em>5,4,3 </em>- then dives headfirst to break the tenuous air. Within seconds, his arms find Tsukishima, enveloping him in his taut and crushing embrace.</p><p>Tsukishima is strong. In Tobio's hold, the boy is weak, powerless, flaccid - a fragile mirage to unheeding mourners<em>. </em>When Tobio leans, head glued atop the hardened arches of his shoulders, the boy struggles in his grasp.</p><p><em>Disoriented</em>. Tsukishima is disoriented. The daze in his eyes tells him so. His hands tremble as if to reject, decline - to deny himself of the warmth Tobio so willingly offers, the certainty Tobio is set and proud to give.</p><p>"Let me go."</p><p>The boy dismisses the consolation when he gravely seeks it - the luxuries it promises, the relief it holds and the alleviation that follows. So Tobio tightens his grip to anchor them to ground. To tell him <em>no</em>. He clenches a fist and crumples the crease of white cotton, keen on staving off the disconnect. Because Tobio will have none of that.</p><p>Tsukishima will not leave his hold. Tsukishima will not disappear.</p><p>He sends every chance of repose through his touch. Firmly placed.</p><p>"I'm here," Tobio whispers. His chin is tucked tight, lips an inch away from the boy's ear. "<em>Kei</em>, I'm here."</p><p>At that, Tsukishima completely sags. He caves in and basks in the embrace. Whatever strain or tear he is yet to let out, gradually escapes and manifests into one, stilted cloud of sighs. Tsukishima frees himself. And it costs nothing but more embraces.</p><p>Tobio turns to greet Hinata's beaming grins. His arms are wrapped on Tsukishima's middle, firm and tender. Yamaguchi links them all in his wider hold, arms around their slouching bodies. Kuroo-san's gesture is subtle. He leans on the rails, one palm in his pocket the other extends to  Tsukishima's head. Threading and kneading through sweat-damped locks<em> - </em>Kuroo-san's own act of comfort.</p><p>The boy shares a look with Tobio. Under the streams of lights, his eyes are ablaze. Tobio could see the wobble in the other's lips, the way they still and stretch, ready to ease the remnants of distress with just the slip of a lighthearted jab.</p><p>"It's rare for Tsukki to indulge in hugs." Yamaguchi unintentionally interjects his plans. "It's not fair if you're the only who gets to do it."</p><p>With a pat, he brushes on the bump of Tobio's wrist. <em>Thank you</em>, he seems to mouth. Tobio nods his head, clueless about the extent of the other's gratitude.</p><p>From within the circle, a grumble resounds. Tobio's chest feels a jaw slacken. "Shut up, Yamaguchi."</p><p>Tsukishima's voice is jaded. But it carries a doting tone to it that Hinata helplessly giggles at.</p><p>"There, there, salty-bean. Just admit you love our hugs." Hinata claps his hand on the dips of his hips. He nuzzles further into the boy's chest, uncaring of the sweat stuck to his clothes. "It'll be okay, Tsukishima. It'll all be okay."</p><p>"What will?" The sudden drop of limbs straightens at the echo of a new voice.</p><p>Tobio is the first to move away. He looks to his left and catches a woman, clad in silky white and brown cardigan.</p><p>She skulks in the shadows before stepping into the comforts of the light, with unparalleled ease and grace. Even when dressed in neutral colours, there is red on her. Lips, nails, shoes. All stark and deep red. The shade of it pairs well with her blonde, curly tresses - portraying herself as the exemplary form of a mature attractive woman. Much appealing too, with the how Takeda-sensei emerges from behind her - a flustered mess, skittish of their slim proximity.</p><p>It is unfortunate that all hues of admiration are erased the moment Takeda-sensei catches sight of them. The way Tobio predicts it, there will be no more distractions to keep them out of authoritative scrutiny.</p><p>"I don't even want to ask." The man groans at them. A scowl voluntarily forms itself to paint discontent. "Once this is all settled I will see to it that you will face your punishment. But..."</p><p>The boys suck in a breath. As much as they pride themselves indifferent of consequences, Tobio knows his companions are deeply affected by the probability of <em>one</em> - or, dare he says, <em>more</em>.</p><p>Takeda-sensei knows this too. Perhaps, that is why his tone is gentler as he berates them. "I think Tsukishima-kun appreciates your support very much. Even I wouldn't wish to squander your efforts."</p><p>"S-sensei!" Hinata gushes over him with a watery smile. Takeda-sensei is unmistakably a godsend.</p><p>The older huffs, warm. "I'll call the coaches before any needless panicking occurs." He throws a cursory glance at Kuroo-san. The boy stiffens, sheepish under his gaze. "I trust you'll keep them out of trouble, captain?"</p><p>Kruoo-san laughs, attentive. "Will do, sir. And for the record, that was the only reason I went with them." He pauses and glimpses at Tsukishima. The boy is positioned comfortably within the enclosure of Yamaguchi and Hinata's support. All three stare at him, expectant.</p><p>Kuroo-san instantly corrects himself then. "Well, <em>one </em>of the reasons."</p><p>"I'm sure it was." Takeda-sensei nods. There's a hint in his tone that approves of Kruoo-san's wording. Even Tobio, the quiet observer, is happy of the boy's response.</p><p>"You go on ahead, sensei." Finally, the woman speaks. Her volume is delicate, <em>dainty</em>. Tobio nearly stumbles away from its angelic lull. "I'll be sure to keep these kids safe as well."</p><p>Takeda-sensei nods again. His skin is a dark tint of pink. "Thank you, Tsukishima-san. I trust the kids are in good hands."</p><p>He leaves with a bow and does not wait to marvel at the baffled expressions of his students.</p><p>A minute later and Tsukishima breaks the stagnant hush. He exits the embrace, his once idle lids opened wide to greet his mother. Daunted, Tobio fails to register the tone of his voice.</p><p>"Mama...Did the doctor say anything?" His words are brief, straightforward. Tobio squirms at how disjointed it feels to him. He thinks of his own mother, and how easy and familiar he talks with her. With Tsukishima, the difference could not be more distant.</p><p>Tsukishima-san does not act surprised. Her kind smile is unwavering, sparkly even. "The doctor said he's doing fine. No major injuries."</p><p>An audible sigh escapes from everyone's sealed lips. Then, as if jolted awake, Kuroo-san makes the drastic move to lead Tsukishima-san to the train of chairs.</p><p>"You probably had a tough day," Kuroo-san says, manners sharp. He stares at the other Tsukishima and lands a soothing pat on his shoulder. "Sit, Tsukki. I know you've been standing an awful while."</p><p>Wordlessly, the boy obliges. He sits across his mother, aware that Yamaguchi and Hinata would follow suit. Tobio imitates them and rests himself beside Hinata. Kuroo-san is left to occupy the chair near Tsukishima-san's right,</p><p>"He's been pacing around this whole time." The woman giggles, melodic but tired. "I'm glad he finally listened to someone."</p><p>"Tsukki's a bit stubborn." Kuroo-san jests, eyes kind as he peers at Tsukishima. "Though I'm sure both of you are having a rough time processing things right now."</p><p>"We are." Tsukishima-san sighs. "But now that Aki's doing fine, we feel like breathing a little. Don't we?"</p><p>Tobio scrunches his face. He takes a moment to realise who the woman is pertaining to. Patiently, Tobio waits for any response, counting the bouts of uncertainty in Tsukishima's breathing.</p><p>"I want to see him," Tsukishima croaks. He curls inwards, <em>crumbling</em>. "I want to see nii-san."</p><p>Yamaguchi quickly holds his hand. "Tsukki..."</p><p>"The nurses advised us to wait." His mother says. "I'm sure <em>nii-san</em> would appreciate it if we don't disturb his rest. Let's be patient, my little <em>firefly</em>."</p><p>Any other day, Tobio would have snickered at the endearment. Perhaps Hinata would have made countless jokes about it. Today, they are still, no desires for childish banter. Tobio is elated to be here to give support and nothing else. He is happy to provide it even if unasked.</p><p>"I want <em>nii</em>-san, Mama. <em>Please</em>."</p><p>Still, it's apparent that Tsukishima does not find the assurance sufficient. Tobio cannot blame him. He imagines his sister, should she suffer the same situation. His stomach churns at the thought of having to wait before he could even see her. Without a doubt, Tobio would be distraught too - blinded by the panic and restlessness of his own musings.</p><p>"Now, now Kei." Tsukishima-san shushes. "Let's not be difficult."</p><p>"But Mama -"</p><p>"Kei." The woman deadens her tone, but there is still patience in them. "The doctor said he's fine. We have to let him rest before we see him. You don't want to bother Akiteru, do you?"</p><p>Tsukishima tenses. He drops his chin, eyes downcast. Yamaguchi caresses his knuckles.</p><p>"No," he answers meekly. "I can wait."</p><p>"Good." Tsukishima-san smiles. "Now why don't you kids stay here while Kei and I get you some coffee."</p><p>"That won't be necessary, ma'am." Kuroo-san shifts and prepares to stand. "I'll do it, you guys just sit here and relax."</p><p>"Nonsense. I'm sure you boys had to travel far. I'm beginning to think with all the sweat on you that you've had quite the struggle getting here."</p><p>"Not at all." Yamaguchi speaks to her for the first time. Despite a long-time friend of her son, he acts unfamiliar with the other. "Hinata and Kageyama-kun just wanted to race against each other. Us normal folks simply needed to keep up."</p><p>"Hinata started it." Kageyama could not help but grouse. Yamaguchi shoots him an incredulous look and Hinata only scrunches his nose.</p><p>"They're real trouble, ma'am," Kuroo-san adds, impish. "It's a good thing there wasn't any police around or else we might have ended up elsewhere."</p><p>"Certainly not. You'd give Takeda-sensei a good fright if you ended up in a cell."</p><p>The woman covers a giggle, much entertained. When she stands, heels clacking, her nails shine a sharp red. It gleams seamlessly that Tobio almost sees nothing but one shade of flush. He tracks the hand's movements and watches them run through her son's feather locks.  Under the glare of lucid bulbs, the nails appear like blots, tainting the clean sheen of gold on Tsukishima.</p><p>"Let's get your friends some drinks, <em>firefly</em>. They came all the way here just to see you so you better return the effort."</p><p>The boy nods at his mother's words. He readies himself to move, eager to remove the hand on his head. Tobio guesses Tsukishima is embarrassed by it. Wordlessly, he treads onto the hallway's right. Somewhere at the end, coated in black shadows, is a vending machine - flickering and buzzing. Tobio watches as Tsukishima follows its direction, his mother a step behind.</p><p>It's only when they are left alone that Tobio notices the strange disquiet from Hinata's expression. Tobio traces his line of sight and finds the silhouette of a woman, a mingling painting of white, brown and red.</p><p>Perturbed, Tobio nudges him. "What's wrong? You're strangely quiet today."</p><p>Hinata returns his quizzical gaze with an indistinguishable gaze. His blinks are torpid, <em>distrustful</em>. </p><p>"Nothing." The boy shrugs. He nibbles on his lips before he adds, "Just... I can't believe she's his mother."</p><p>"You don't see the resemblance?" Kuroo-san rebuts, brows quizzical. "It's uncanny. Hell, she looks like a woman version of him."</p><p>"It's the smile," Hinata admits. "They feel...different."</p><p>"How so?" Tobio urges. He tries to catch a view of the smile and fails. The mother is gone now, her figure reduced to dim lines.</p><p>"<em>Stilted</em>." The boy replies. "They're stilted."</p><p>"It's probably the stress." Yamaguchi reasons.</p><p>Kuroo-san hums, having considered the same conclusion. "You notice a lot of random things, don't ya shrimpy?"</p><p>"I just think it's weird! But yeah...I guess it's probably that." Hinata concedes. His eyes flit about, absent as they stare at the empty chairs across.</p><p>Tobio reckons the boy is not convinced. But he does not reply again. And though Tobio feels he has much to say, Hinata chooses not to proceed.</p><p>"Probably." He repeats to himself.</p><p>No one thinks twice about it. They don't force him to continue either. For now, they find that the least of their interests. For now, they feel at ease.</p><p>The serenity of early mornings catches up to them. Tobio, with all the strength he can convene, sprawls himself across the free space of his seat. It squeaks out a pitchy whine, startling the backrest from his heavy impact. Drowsily, Tobio exhales as the other's arrange themselves to do the same.</p><p>"Get some sleep," Kuroo-san advises. Among the four of them, he looks the most awake. Even then, the edge of his voice is slurred. "I'll wake you up once the drinks are here."</p><p>The boys obey without objections and at last, they rest. Tobio's lashes flutter, heedful to the light air that sings to him. He falls asleep at the fourth blink. No longer does he hear or see anything but the picture of breathing lines. No longer does he feel apprehension twitch in his blood.</p><p>Alive. Everyone is alive.</p><p>*</p><p>What was meant as short nap stalls for more than an hour and extends beyond the first keek of sunrise. By the time Tobio rises to greet a balmy dawn, he is groggy and unkempt. He wearily blinks the drowse away. His bleak vision clears, slow on making sense of his warped surroundings.</p><p>"Had a good rest?" The first to welcome him back is red. All around him, the hues of red ignite.</p><p>Tobio bats his lashes for good measure. Three times he stretches his limbs, folding and unfolding to eschew the lingering torpor in his bones. And when Tobio finds balance, no longer a staggering halfwit, the hues of blood abscond and normalcy returns. Warm yellow. A colour fit for a new day.  </p><p>"What did I miss?" Tobio cringes at the raspiness of his voice. A hand travels to his left, passing him bottled water. Tobio gapes at it before he identifies the pale fingers to be Takeda-sensei's.</p><p>"Nothing much," Takeda-sensei whispers. The shushing melody of his volume warns Tobio to do the same.</p><p>He studies the ambience of the place and discovers the others dozing still to the rhythmic taps of distant passersby. Tobio's first impulse is to count his company. <em>One, two, three</em> - orange, green, raven - Tobio counts again and captures no tinge of gold within his vicinity.</p><p>"Where's Tsukishima?" He asks, almost like a demand.</p><p>Takeda-sensei reproaches him with a look before he answers. "At the rooftops. He said he wanted to get some fresh air."</p><p>Tsukishima-san senses the hitch in his breath. Quickly, she reassures him, "Don't worry about Kei. My son is a big boy, he can handle himself."</p><p>"I'll look for him." Tobio insists. A part of him commands him to. Tsukishima and rooftops do not mesh well with one another. And if it were Tobio's decision to make, he would not allow the boy anywhere near high places. Precautions must be imposed. Tobio is not about to meander on that matter.</p><p>"Kei wouldn't want to bother you." Tsukishima-san persists.</p><p>It seems to Tobio that the woman does not match his sentiments. If anything, she acts particularly indecisive about them. Tobio concludes it must be a mother's personal brand of protectiveness. Suppose Tsukishima-san values her son's privacy very much.</p><p>But Tobio knows Tsukishima too, maybe not as well as his own mother. And he understands the cues and the signals of vulnerability. Though he is not the most perceptive or assertive ( often an incoherent, socially-inept mess), Tobio is aware of what Tsukishima wants. A friend. Tsukishima wants a friend.</p><p>"He won't be." So he ascertains. "I'm happy to keep him company."</p><p>Slowly, Tobio detaches himself from Yamaguchi's damp and feverish side. The boy stirs in his sleep but he swiftly recovers from the interruption. His head searches for support and leans itself atop Hinata's shoulder, dragged by the force of a sleepy gravity. From his left is Kuroo-san, a snoring dreamer about to sag and drop his head on Takeda-sensei's lap. Inwardly, Tobio winces at the bashful apologies Kuroo-san would have to make later on.</p><p>"But see, Kei is a little..." Tsukishima-san begins to argue again. She taps her nails against the edge of her cup, careful of any coffee spills. The shade of it is black, bitter. Tsukishima-san ought to be cautious not to sully her sleeves. "...irritable when stressed. He might take it out on you -"</p><p>Takeda-sensei comes to Tobio's rescue then, having thought otherwise. "I think it would be good for Tsukishima-kun to have someone around. If anything, it would help relieve whatever he's bottling up. He's been visibly more relaxed when the kids arrived."</p><p>Tobio regards the woman with a stare, agog. There is disinclination in her eyes but she looks to be less obstinate. Heaving a sigh, she gives Tobio a gesture of affirmation - <em>convinced</em>.</p><p>"Kei has such good friends, doesn't he?" Tsukishima-san remarks, affectionate. Tobio reads her nod as a subtle act of trust.</p><p>He smiles, respectful. Without a word, Tobio parts from them and briskly makes his way to the stairs. He tries not to think too much of the woman's words. Whatever they entail, he finds them unimportant. It's clear that Tsukishima-san only means the best for her son and that is all Tobio requires to understand her indisposition.</p><p>The path he takes disregards his own bits of reservations. It is a steep rise to the daylight's lure - an easy tire for lethargic minds. When Tobio reaches the last of the upward slope, his veins pulsate in celebration. Bit by bit, Tobio reaches past the thresholds. The end of the slanted tunnel is abundantly alight and Tobio is momentarily blinded by its welcome.</p><p>His unabashed shock is replaced by the sudden urge to sprint. Tobio had intended the opposite minutes ago when he'd found himself stuck in his reveries. But now, eyes narrowed to the only figure in the rooftop, with their limbs no farther than a centimetre from the railings - Tobio is alert. </p><p>Just another inch and Tsukishima could very plummet to the ground below. <em>A poetic fall to demise.</em></p><p>Tobio moves, devoid of any sound plans. In no more than five hasty marches, Tobio makes it to Tsukishima.</p><p>He stalks. His breath is heavy as he slows down at the last step. Tobio's destination ends just where Tsukishima's shadow falls, a crouching cluster of panic and dread. In Tobio's eyes, Tsukishima <em>sinks</em>. He enfolds himself with quaking arms and smothers his cries in concealed trepidation - <em>drowning</em>.</p><p>Tobio gulps the dryness back into his throat. Inching forward, he bends his knees to cradle the other's head.</p><p>"<em>Kei</em>..." He utters, sure of his movements. A thumb wipes the other's cheeks, marked with tears and desperation. "<em>Kei</em>, what's wrong?"</p><p>"Make them stop." Tsukishima pleads him. He clings to Tobio, hands wrapped around his wrists. Eagerly, he pushes the palms into his skin, squishing his cheeks flat and muffling whatever sounds plague his ears.</p><p>"Make them stop, <em>Tobio</em>. Please. I don't want to hear them anymore."</p><p>Tobio worries over the ambiguity of his words. He leans in close, excluded to a secret he is yet to comprehend.</p><p>"What do you want me to stop, <em>Kei</em>? What are you hearing right now?"</p><p>He pays close attention to the other's breathing. How they spike and still. A sporadic sign of unrest. They convey harrowing epiphanies, bristling with grief and desolation. Tobio shakes Tsukishima and sees the depths of the void stare back at him.</p><p>"Stop them. Please, stop them."</p><p><em>Up, down, up, down... down, down, down, up, up</em> - stop.</p><p>Tobio holds him closer, tighter.</p><p>"They'll take him." Tsukishima cries. "They'll take nii-san away. I don't want them to take him."</p><p><em>Up, down, up, down ...up, up, up, up</em> - stop<em>.</em></p><p>"Breathe, <em>Kei</em>." Tobio's words prolong, <em>begging</em>. "Breathe with me."</p><p>He paces his breathing and makes the thrums of his chest visible. Inhale and exhale. Four pauses in between. Inhale and exhale. Four pauses in between. Tobio's mother had done the same to him before, when he'd fussed and lamented over a bloody gash on his knee. For every stir Tobio makes Tsukishima shifts with him. Like the tides, they move in unison. Their lungs constrict and dilate, yearning for the halcyon that will meet them in the aftermath.</p><p>Inhale and exhale. Four pauses in between. Tobio plants his stare on Tsukishima and Tsukishima alone.</p><p>He listens to his broken pants and sobs. He notes his snot-filled face and scarlet cheeks, wet all over and doused in mortification. If not for the ruddy taint of despair, Tsukishima's complexion would have been corpselike. A pasty, puny colour that would render him transparent.</p><p>"Breathe with me." Tobio reminds. His fingers push, the lines of his palms aligned to the lobes of Tsukishima's ears. For each sweeping seconds, Tobio taps a melody on his temple. Tsukishima will not hear any of it. But Tobio knows he can feel them.</p><p><em>One tap. Two taps. Three taps.  </em>The pattern reprises. So does Tsukishima. <em>One tap. Two taps. Three taps-</em></p><p>"I'm here." Tobio whispers, honest and unabashed. "I'm here."</p><p>Tsukishima nods along even when deaf to his reassurances. The tremors in his fingers placate, replaced by leaden twitches. The hold that adheres to Tobio's own is precarious. Spent and uncoordinated.</p><p>Gingerly, the hysteria quietens. Tsukishima droops. The strain in his lungs discharge, unbidden. His exhales play themselves in adagio. At length, his weeping quells.</p><p>Tobio searches for whatever morsel of malaise is left to discourage. And when he senses nothing, Tobio swags then sighs.</p><p>"Are you okay now?"</p><p>The boy before him sniffles. He nods, eyes downcast. Biting his lip, Tsukishima mutters, "Thank you."</p><p>"What for?" Tobio asks. His arms drop without thought, only to link them back to Tsukishima. Ten calloused fingers intertwine with ten insecure ones. Tobio tightens his grip and caresses the bony indents in between.</p><p>"For staying," Tsukishima says. He sniffles again, lashes moist. "Please don't tell anyone about this. I've embarrassed myself too many times already. I can't bear anymore teasing from the others."</p><p>Tobio huffs. Of the many things to brood about the boy chooses to dwell on the most trifling of worries. "Stop fretting over the unimportant matters. You're feeling a lot of things right now, it's normal to find them overwhelming."</p><p>Tsukishima nods in lax agreement. His exhaustion hinders him from arguing back. Instead, he fiddles with one of Tobio's fingers. "I talked with nii-san today."</p><p>Tobio crawls over to the railings, back posted on its barren boundary. "What did you guys talk about?"</p><p>The boy shrugs.  "Stuffs. Emotions. All those cheesy crap." He pulls his knees to his chest and hides his chin behind them. "He told me was happy to see me. I was too."</p><p>"You guys haven't seen each other in a while, have you?"</p><p>"No." The other admits. "When Takeda-sensei told me about the accident, I got really scared. I thought I wouldn't get the chance to see him again...I thought it'd all be over."</p><p>Tobio doesn't say a word. He lets Tsukishima ramble. It's a rarity to hear the boy speak of his emotions, and Tobio refuses to impede that.</p><p>"Humans are scary, aren't they? One moment they exist and the next they don't. They're so impermanent that it's frightening to even think about what their tomorrow looks like. Will they live? Will they not? If they do, would they be able to wake up and brush their teeth, get to their bus stop on time and arrive early at work? If they don't, would they be able to call their loved ones, tell them they love them, give them a hug and bare them a smile for one last time?</p><p>What if they don't? What happens then? What happens to them? What happens to the people they leave behind? It's so horrifying to think about it - about the uncertainty, the grief...the vagueness of the future, the emptiness of the end. It's a lot like walking on a thin wire while you're up in the air. And you're a thousand kilometres above ground. Just one slip...just one miss - and you're gone.</p><p>Maybe the world will cry for you. Maybe the world will talk about you. But they will not stop moving. They will grieve but they will not waver. Then, one day, you'll be forgotten...By the world, by the people you love and the people that love you. One day, you'll be dust and no one will even know you existed."</p><p>Tobio gapes, entranced. The reality is irrefutable. But,</p><p>"I would." Tobio insists. Tsukishima stares at him then, surprised. "If, one day, you'll be nothing but dust...I don't think I'll forget you. <em>Ever</em>."</p><p>The boy soundlessly chuckles at his promise. "But you will. If not now then maybe tomorrow. Life has no care for the dead."</p><p>"You can't possibly be sure of that." Tobio counters. He points his focus to Tsukishima, gaze confident. "I'll prove it to you."</p><p>Tsukishima titters, carefree. "The only time you can prove that to me is when I'm dead. And by then, I wouldn't be there to witness your victory."</p><p>Tobio sputters. "T-then...I'll find another way."</p><p>Tsukishima only smiles at his attempt. He giggles and giggles as Tobio's propositions turn desperate. To and fro, they exchange insults, the recent more ridiculous than the first. And as they bicker, the dawn above them glistens. It sings of a reborn -overflowing with the blissful prospects of a new day.</p><p>And whatever lies ahead at the end of it - only fate knows.</p><p><em>Alive.</em> Tobio wishes. <em>Everyone is alive.</em></p><p>*</p><p>All trivial events fleet and interweave with the memories of a youthful summer's much more treasured engagements. Tobio soaks in the vibrant aftermath of his own discomfiting troubles. The reprieve, the respite and the subsequent tirades from disappointed coaches - all serving as a reminder of the mundane, run-of-the-mill life that high school students live in.</p><p>The last day of camp ends in a hurry. Buses are impatient,  chatters are flippant and the slick glide of sneakers resound in diffidence. Almost no one wishes to depart so early. But the coaches announce they must.</p><p>Tobio gets the grand opportunity to witness Tsukishima as he becomes an unwilling recipient of a myriad of requests, all about his safety and well-being. Bokuto-san rambles ceaselessly to the boy about healthy reminders, or what he deems a proper lifestyle. He talks about the right amount of food that must be eaten daily, the proper temperature of water for sore muscles and the hours of sleep necessary to pass a test. Akaashi-san loiters around to recommend the younger the same things, sometimes disrupting Bokuto-san's much-exaggerated orders.</p><p>Of course, Kuroo-san does not forget to remind him too. He eagerly gathers Tobio, Hinata and Yamaguchi to their circle, subjecting them to the same preachings. He advises them on their diet, the schemes they would dare plan should a need for one arises, the justifications they could use if Sawamura-san or the other seniors catch them in the act. Kuroo-san provides them with an ample amount of recommendations. And a number too, one he claims as imperative to note to memory.</p><p>"For emergencies." He explains to them. But Tobio thinks he certainly expects more.</p><p>Akaashi-san asks to include his own number in their contacts, much franker than Kuroo-san's nonchalant reasons or Bokuto-san's flailing ones.</p><p>And when the last of their farewells are said and done, Kuroo-san sneaks in one, last hearty jest.</p><p>
  <em>"You better be kickin' well when we meet again. And it better be at the Nationals."</em>
</p><p>Tobio lets the boy's cackle reverberate through the free breeze, taking some of it with him to the dingy entrance of his school's vehicle.</p><p>Once seated, Tobio marvels at the view of his window panes and scenery behind him. Tsukishima is by his side, Yamaguchi and Hinata just across. No longer does Tsukishima cover his ears and wallow in his reveries. Despite Hinata's grating babbles and Yamaguchi's awful singing, Tsukishima is genuinely amused. He talks, uttering words longer than 10 letters and chortling at taunts that do not necessarily bear ill-meanings.</p><p>All around Tobio, the bus beams in elation. The third-years gossip and snicker at their own antics. The second-years bellow and guffaw, entranced in their made-up games. Even the managers have their own little bubble of fun. Only the coaches are snoring. As the road unwinds and leads them back home, Tobio can only hear the music of his companions - his <em>friends</em>. Although far from harmonious, it nurtures a safe place. A different sort of home but a home nonetheless.</p><p>"What would you do after this?"</p><p>Somewhere, at the back of Tobio's mind, he thinks of a profound answer. Introspective and insightful. It only takes him a second to grasp that Tsukishima's question is not meant to be philosophical</p><p>So he says, "Sleep. Probably."</p><p>It appears to be the appropriate answer as Tsukishima simply scoffs at him, acting every bit ecstatic to deride his straightforward simplicity. There it is. There's the stingy boy he recognises. </p><p>"Oikawa said to meet with him." The boy whispers. "My mom is going to stay in Tokyo for another day to take care of nii-san, so I have the house all to myself. We can arrange a meeting with him then."</p><p>Tobio arches a brow. "Can't it wait tomorrow? Is he in a hurry or something?"</p><p>"Beats me." Tsukishima shrugs. "He probably just misses us."</p><p>Tobio snorts at the thought of that. "Yeah, right." Slumping backwards, he leans his head against the window. "I'll call my mom. I'm guessing if the meeting's this urgent, I might miss dinner."</p><p>"I can tell Oikawa to buy us food," Tsukishima suggests slyly. "As his form of apology."</p><p>Tobio smirks. "I want curry by the way."</p><p>Tsukishima takes note of his request and proceeds to tap on his phone. The rest of the ride runs smoothly, filled with more bizarre games and countless reprimands from the coaches. Tobio basks in the fun of it all.</p><p>By the time they reach school grounds, most appear drained. The team part ways without much struggle. Tobio and Tsukishima successfully evade suspicion as they walk the same route. If Tobio were to contemplate about the spontaneity of their luck, he would have to say it mostly has something to do with Yamaguchi's after school errands and Hinata's big brother duties. Whatever predestined plans fate has for them, Tobio is simply grateful for the happenstance.</p><p>"What took you guys so long?" Oikawa emerges at the exact moment Tobio ends his prayer of thanks. The older loiters by Tsukishima's guarded entryway, clothes fashionable but rumpled in his lame crouch.   </p><p>"Hello to you too, Oikawa-san." Tobio greets, monotonous. Secretly, he is happy to see the other again. Something about the distance has made Tobio fond of even the most prickly entity on earth.</p><p>The older harrumphs, unfazed. A bag of food rustles with him. "How was camp?"</p><p>"Eventful." Tsukishima answers. He works with the locked gates. The keys jingle in his twig-like fingers. Pushing carefully, Tsukishima's home is open at last.</p><p>They tread onto the lined-up cobblestones, soaking in the view of a humble front yard coloured in white chrysanthemums and trumpet lillies. They enter in no more than a minute late, feet clad in fluffy slippers that Oikawa and Tobio could not help but snicker at. The Tsukishima household sans its niggling presence of family, brags a simple elegance of its own. It's built as a two-story structure, white with burgundy accents and pristine alcoves. Passing by such a place would tempt for a double glance. While modest in its design, the place is wealthy enough to garner admiration.</p><p>The Tsukishima's are moneyed. The house exudes a hefty bank account. Tobio finds it funny that a spacious and well-furnished home doesn't feel quite like it. Distant. It feels distant.</p><p>He does not get any opportunity to linger behind and question the hollow atmosphere as Tsukishima leads them straight to his room. It's placed within the confines of a narrow hallway, a lofty door placed perfectly at the end. When Tobio pads his soles against the white carpeted floor, he finds that Tsukishima's room is cosier than the cold, lackadaisical aura of its outside. His very own safe haven, Tobio guesses.</p><p>"Let's get straight to business."</p><p>Once settled, Oikawa opens the discussion. He flashes an image through the screen of his phone. The bright characters beam at Tobio and spell out a novel name,</p><p>"Kaito...<em>John</em>?" Tobio reads aloud, twisting his tongue to get a better pronunciation of the name. "Sounds foreign."</p><p>"And average. Couldn't they come up with a better name?" Tsukishima sneers. The small round table that separates them reacts to the twitch of his knee. "Why not just stick with one nationality if you can't even do both right."</p><p>"Nationality?" Tobio repeats mechanically. Then he blinks, owlish. <em>Ah</em>. The name is American - with a badly mismatched Japanese surname. Not that Tobio wants to judge. Some names are destined to be bizarre.</p><p>"Not the point right now, dumbos." Oikawa scolds. Gliding his finger across the screen, he shows them a picture of a man. Blue eyes. Raven hair. Finely shaped brows. The image only displays half of the person's body, but Tobio could still make out the lean and tall physique.</p><p>"Handsome man." Tsukishima voices out. Tobio and Oikawa gape at him in subtle bewilderment. "Let me guess...he's nii-san's ex, isn't he?"</p><p>Oikawa nods. "The guy's personal information says he's been living in America for years."</p><p>"What's the problem with that?" Tobio scrunches his nose in clear dissatisfaction. His stomach grumbles, the appetizing smell of take-out curry cajoling the rationality out of him.</p><p>Oikawa rolls his eyes at him, almost knowing. With a swift push, he deliberately slides the food to Tobio's side. Tobio catches it without shame and sees Tsukishima do the same with his strawberry cake.</p><p>"Problem is, his pictures and recent activity log on social media are all located elsewhere." The older presents them a collection of meticulously captured screenshots. "The date and time of his errands vary but they all transpire within a singular location: Osaka."</p><p>Tobio allows himself a moment of respite before lowering his uneaten spoon of curry. When he processes the implications, all plans of relishing his dinner are instantly banished out of his mind.</p><p>"Great." Tsukishima grouchily mumbles. He pushes away his slice of cake. Like a sulky child, the boy folds his arms. "I can't even enjoy my desert in peace, can I?"</p><p>"Blame the mystery, not me." Oikawa raises his hands in surrender. "Anyway, this could pose a really bad threat if he's our shadow. People who lie about their whereabouts have very serious reasons. Most of the times they're bad reasons. Possibly with bad motives too."</p><p>"But why the sloppy cover?" Tobio poses. "This Kaito-guy must have gone through great lengths to make his files look like he's still living abroad. Why would he squander his own efforts with careless posts on the internet?"</p><p>"Visits," Tsukishima replies to him after giving a thorough peek at the pictures. "He made his logs look like simple vacation get-aways to Japan."</p><p>"But anyone with half a mind would notice that the patterns of his so-called <em>'visits'</em> are staged," Oikawa adds as an explanation.</p><p>"Staged?" Tobio parrots dumbly.</p><p>"Just look at the timeline of his activities." The older points to his screen. "Some of the posts he made after announcing his flight back to America are vague landscapes. Hell, if you try harder, you can see his pretentious captures of the skies closely resemble Osaka. A careful snooping can get you very far, Tobio-chan. Some people really underestimate the merits of social media."</p><p>Tsukishima lets out a noise of agreement. "Can't deny that. The guy must have thought the same. Question is, why would he lie about his location in the first place?"</p><p>"That's what makes him sketchy." Oikawa answers. "It's plausible he could be dangerous. Any word from your brother about him?"</p><p>Tobio stiffens, unsure if Tsukishima would be ready to humour topics about his brother and the inadvertent queries regarding the accident.</p><p>Tsukishima surprises him by replying, in a calm and unaffected tone, "Not much. The circumstances weren't ideal. I only managed to ask a few questions about his past relationships. This... Kaito guy, or John or whoever he is - is a sore topic for nii-san. The guy was volatile, he would get into physical fights and start arguments left and right. Real aggressive, nii-san said. He had a really hard time dealing with him. Probably best he broke things off before shit got worse."</p><p>"He made a wise choice. The guy's a nutcrack for sure." Oikawa nods. He sighs, the genuine relief displaying itself without restraints.</p><p>A pause permeates through the room. Unable to discuss further contributions or other findings, Oikawa decides to divert the topic elsewhere. His posture is lax, eyes clear of confusion or incertitude. Perhaps the boy feels a sense of comfort from Tobio and Tsukishima's presence. Or perhaps, he's simply allowing himself rest from all the troubles. Whatever the grounds are, Tobio will not hold it against him.</p><p>Oikawa deserves his own bit of respite. Summer is nearing its end and no teenager should mope in a corner that is yet to be blanketed by winter.</p><p>So he begins,</p><p>"What were you guys up to during training camp?"</p><p>And Tobio dallies for a second before mischief sparkles in his eyes.</p><p>"Let's start with the pool."</p><p>From then on, dinner is festive. Three boys, chaffing about each other's plights and mishaps, indulging the lenient pauses in between and Oikawa's awful impersonations of some dramatic scene from a cheap romantic film (though Tsukishima himself is half-deserving of the mockery as even he can recite the cheesy one-liners by heart) - a buoyant, young and <em>summer</em> fun, savouring the pleasures of a spry evening and its hopeful tomorrow. And if they scarf down a few unhealthy portions of take-out junk, there will be no adults to deprive them.</p><p><em>Alive</em>. Tobio remembers to pray. <em>Everyone is alive.</em></p><p>Tonight, Tobio can finally, <em>truthfully</em> rest.</p><p>*</p><p>But rest, Tobio concludes, is a luxury most alluded to the most fortunate - and the most behaved. In Kuroo-san's cryptic and unusual vocabulary (sent unceremoniously through a barrage of text messages and out-of-place emojis), rest is a reward for the saints. Seeing as Tobio has kept quite the record of being otherwise, the said luxury is near to none.</p><p>They say only punishment awaits the rule-breakers. Now Tobio stands as a testament to that irrefutable claim, clad in a thin jumpsuit and a bucket in hand.</p><p>Clean the pool. That had been Ukai-sensei's penalty to them. Considering some of the other sanctions were less ideal, Tobio dares to think this would be the better choice.</p><p>It's not as though Tobio is alone in this. Hinata and Yamaguchi are, unfortunately (in Tobio's case, <em>fortunately</em>) subjected to the same fate. Miscreants who work together get caught together - credited only to Ukai-sensei's sage adage.</p><p>Tsukishima, the favoured bastard is excluded from all of it.</p><p>"There's a grime in the left corner."</p><p>- he does not, however, exclude himself from the entertainment his friends' suffering brings. Really, Tobio thinks the only reason he had voluntarily tagged along is to make an audience out of his peers for his snarky blagues and rib-ticklers.</p><p>"You could at least help us while you're here." Tobio petulantly snarls at the unfairness.</p><p>Tsukishima outright ignores his woes with just the tilt of his chin. He sits on the pool's ledge, under the shade of a fancy umbrella - legs flippant as they relish the scant coolness of the summer winds. </p><p>"Can't." The boy hums, chirpy. When Tobio cranes his neck to glare at him, he doesn't see Tsukishima. He only sees the very epitome of evil.  "Ukai-sensei specifically told me not to help you." </p><p>"I still wonder why you were so eager to come along with us on a Sunday morning when you could very well be resting in the comforts of your own home."</p><p>Yamaguchi comes bounding to their side and occupies a corner near Tsukishima's spot. The thin, clandestine stripe of a hose hide in his covered fingers. Hinata cleverly approaches Yamaguchi's left and crowds over the hose with his sharp shadows. </p><p>There is a smirk in Yamaguchi's voice as he speaks. "Sounds like you really love our company, Tsukki."</p><p>From where Tobio stands, just a step behind, he witnesses as Hinata inclines his head and rocks on his heels. Easily, he catches hold of the hose in Yamaguchi's loose grip. His toes wiggle about as if to pounce. Yamaguchi acts as a great diversion from the visible display of zeal.</p><p>Tsukishima is quicker though. Already, he is bracing himself from the ambush. </p><p>"Don't think you can fool me, dumbos." The boy angles his stance. He has one knee raised and ready to rise and retaliate. "I can read your devilish plans from a mile away."</p><p>The advantage is now in Tsukishima's control. Any movement from the two and Tsukishima could run and dodge their attacks. No longer immersed on the sticky mire stuck between the tiles, Tobio steals a glance and watches as Hinata deflates. The hose in his small hands sputters, pitiful.</p><p>Suddenly, a spike of curiosity implants itself in Tobio's head. What would Tsukishima do if the surprise were to come from someone else? Intrigued, Tobio drags his own tube of water and points it directly above. The splash is strong. Like a gust of wind fuelled by the budding winter, Tsukishima is drenched from head to toe. </p><p>The coalescing cheers compete with Tsukishima's shrieking gasps. His breathing wobbles. Water reaches down to his throat and forces out a violent cough from his lungs. </p><p>"Nice going, Kageyama!" Hinata hangs on his back. An overzealous monkey praising Tobio's sneak attack. </p><p>Yamaguchi runs to him in unconcealed glee, arms raised for a high-five. "I knew we could count on you."</p><p>Before Tobio could even revel in the applauses of his friends, a blast of water sprinkles them. Hinata and Yamaguchi screech as their clothes are soaked. Deep in their surprise, they press themselves against Tobio. Grouping together only worsens their dripping state. They shiver, wet all over. </p><p>"You guys look stupid!" Tsukishima stands above the disorder. His shadow is bigger under the shine of the sun. It doubles, hovering over three grumpy heads. A triumphant ray of sun.</p><p>When Tobio stares above he only sees one thing. Tsukishima. When he stares again, longer this time, with his eyes squinted from the harsh peak of afternoon heat and mouth agape, he only hears one thing. Laughter.</p><p>Pure, joyous laughter.</p><p>Tsukishima smiles at them with his lips pulled wide, flashing his pearly teeth and healthy gums. A hose resides in his hands and he makes no effort to feign innocence. But even then, his existence bellows like it.</p><p>Lids sealed, cheeks a soft pink and laugh an unworried jingle...not a strain to push on his shoulders or any ache to dampen his flare -</p><p><em>Free</em>. Tsukishima is free. </p><p>Tobio rejoices with him. He laughs - again and again until the whole air whirs in euphoria. And though Yamaguchi and Hinata are immensely puzzled, they laugh along with him. Everywhere, the warmth of their twitters spread. </p><p>In that single moment of freedom, the world is alight. Or at least it feels that way to Tobio.</p><p>The howls of fun carry on even as day falls and dusk begins. Their antics, though less sonorous and more subdued, continue until the first peep of blue darts across the skyline. Once out of their jumpsuits and into their own clothes, the boys decide to loiter around Ukai-sensei's store.</p><p>On their way home, they treat themselves to ice cream. And they talk, jest and holler. Everything they can think of, they have a hearty chuckle about. Always with a quip ready to colour the dusty pavements.  Only when there is silence that Hinata begins to speak of deeper thoughts.</p><p>"I plan on going to Brazil someday." He says, done with his orange-flavoured ice cream. He'd chosen it purely because of the way it glints the same way as his hair. </p><p>"And how will you do that exactly?" Tsukishima asks him. He eyes the other, curios of his plans. This is the first Tobio has seen the boy intently invested.</p><p>Hinata shrugs, relaxed. "I don't know yet. But I'll figure something out."</p><p>Tobio snorts. "That's very like <em>you</em>."</p><p>The shorter wrinkles his nose at that, defensive. "What's that supposed to mean?"</p><p>"He means it as a compliment." Yamaguchi steps in to appease the boy. "I also think the same. But we don't mean anything bad by it. We just think it's...admirable."</p><p>The answer works. Hinata puffs out his chest and presents them a proud strut. "I know. Bokuto-san told me some of the best players are from Brazil. If I want to be the best in the world, I'm going to have to learn more."</p><p>"Must be nice." Tsukihima hums. He's the last to finish his dessert, keen on licking his ice cream stick clean. </p><p>Hinata falters to match his strides. "What about you?" He gapes at him. "What do you want to do?"</p><p>Tsukishima stalls before he replies. The dips of his tracks are light, almost leaving no traces of himself on the ground. Tobio is momentarily fascinated by it.</p><p>"I don't know yet." The boy answers, honest. </p><p>"Why not?" Hinata probes. The two are ahead by one step. Yamaguchi stays, a bit behind, and Tobio sticks to his side for additional shelter from the winds. </p><p>Tsukishima's shoulders hike up. "I guess I just didn't think I'd come this far. But...I'd like to try - dreaming, that is."</p><p>"Well, Tsukki," Yamaguchi chimes in. "You've got a lot of time to figure it all out." The boy races ahead, chin directed towards the sky. He points at a star and simpers. "<em>We've </em>got a lot of time to think about what we really want."</p><p>"We just have to pray whatever awaits us is good."</p><p>Tobio smiles at that. He's starting to love it. Being alive, that is. There was never quite a time when he'd stopped and mused over his life. For Tobio, life is life. You just live it. But now, lulled by the lively hums of Hinata's made-up tunes and charmed by Yamaguchi's striking proverbs, the remnants of boisterous laughter engraved in his heart - Tobio learns that life is more. </p><p>"This is my path." Tsukishima's voice is soft as he calls the group's attention. "You can go on ahead."</p><p>Tobio scans the area and glimpses at Tsukishima's familiar roof three houses away. </p><p>"Are you sure, Tsukki? We can walk you there if you want." </p><p>"No need." Tsukishima declines Yamaguchi's offer. The glow of street lamps tints him with a sombre gold. "I can walk the rest alone."</p><p>"Alright then." Yamaguchi relents. "Take care of yourself, Tsukki."</p><p>Tsukishima faces the group. He beams at them again, eyes a combination of stardusts. </p><p>"You too." He whispers. Happiness bleeds through his words. But they dwindle, a part of his shadow wanes as he takes a step back. Away from the light. Away from them. </p><p>Before the rest of it could completely disappear, Tobio gets the sudden urge to beckon him again. </p><p>"Tsukishima!"</p><p>The boy stops in his tracks but he does not come closer. "What?"</p><p>Tobio gazes at him. Then he blinks. "Nothing." He pauses. "Just...see you tomorrow?"</p><p>Tsukishima blinks back, confounded by his words. He registers the question before finally, he breathes out a giggle and nods at Tobio.</p><p>"Yeah," He says. Like a promise. "I'll see you tomorrow."</p><p>And like that, his figure retreats. Engulfed by darkness. Whisked by a flurry of air.</p><p>Tobio takes a long gander at where he once stood before he leaves. His heart is full today and his stomach is worn from all the laughing. </p><p>Tomorrow, they will do the same. Tomorrow, they will laugh again.</p><p>*</p><p>Tomorrow, Tsukishima is gone.</p><p>Tomorrow, the school is awfully quiet.</p><p>Tomorrow, news of a student's passing echoes through the hallways. It speaks of a boy no older than 15, tall but frail with a small mole under his chin. It speaks of a boy who trespassed an abandoned building one night and jumped off its rooftops in nothing but his thin shirt and black pants. </p><p>Tomorrow talks of a boy who killed himself and left without notice.</p><p>Tomorrow talks of Tsukishima Kei.</p><p>*</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>4 more chapters but things are still in disarray, i hope to make the next chapters a fun and thrilling experience &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. TRACK 0</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>forgive me for any overlooked errors, </p><p>as always, have a good read :&gt;</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They say he snuck into an old and barren building and didn't tell his mother. He climbed the wall of St. Austen's backyard, ran past the grassy clearing, walked ten flights of stairs before finally, he pushed himself to ground and plummeted to his unfortunate demise. The murky ripples of water had been his last company.</p><p>They say he did it at perfect midnight where no one was awake to hear him.</p><p>It's the kind of death often alluded to Dandellion's Fall – a foreign novel that writes about the sublime and much too romanticised deaths alluded to suicide.</p><p>Suicide. They say that had been it.</p><p>They say Tsukishima Kei had been a sad, <em>sad</em> child with an ailing mind that couldn't bear the truths of his reality. Desolate. Despondent. Morose. The boy who rarely smiles. The boy who barely lives.</p><p><em>Depressed</em>. That had been their conclusion. His mother thought the same. His classmates. The teachers at his school. The people who stumbled over the news. All of them had only one conclusion in mind.</p><p>All of them thought of Tsukishima Kei as <em>was</em>.</p><p>When the police asked his grieving mother, she answered them in past tenses. His relatives, though smothered with tears, responded the same. The neighbours that pass by them discussed in hushed voices, cautious of their wordings as they too referred to him, his being completely forgotten.</p><p>The transition had been too seamless, shameless and wretched - as if Tsukishima had never lived at all. </p><p>As if Tsukishima does not gripe about his schoolwork in mundane Mondays or yawn his way to lunches. As if Tsukishima does not snort uncontrollably over an idiotic wisecrack or dawdle over another project - scrambling for contents to write before the due date and still impress his teachers with creative inputs. As if he does not jest daily about Tanaka-san's English pronunciations or Nishinoya-san's ridiculous new moves. Tobio reckons most of the people had already forgotten how Tsukishima loves to gaze at the cloudless skies or ponder aloud about something gravely disconcerting - just for the pure and utter shock he could elicit from Sugawara-san's timid heart and Asahi-san's fear of horror and gore. </p><p>Perhaps they had also forsaken the little bits of moments when he laughs, pure and truthful – free of animosity or spite, or when he cries, open and vulnerable – devoid of prickling rejections or aversions of comfort.</p><p>It's not too difficult to presume they had already abandoned the idea of a <em>living</em> Tsukishima Kei.</p><p>Tobio thinks that people so easily neglect the lingering presence of those memories - that they willingly abandon normalcy for the sake of peace.</p><p>To them, Tsukishima Kei no longer exists. He <em>had</em> existed, but the vague picture of his actuality erases all the ideas of him being an <em>is</em>. Tobio surmises a part of them had resigned to that eventual decision without so much of a protest. Because to them, Tsukishima Kei is nothing more than a corpse, set to fester and recede from the minds of the world who mourned for him.</p><p>And yet to Tobio, Tsukishima Kei lives. There is no cease or departure. Only Tsukishima and his promise to appear tomorrow. Safe and sound. Neither blue nor empty white. Neither scratched nor bruised. Neither immobile nor unresponsive. Neither <em>was</em> nor <em>had</em>. Because to Tobio, Tsukishima is alive.</p><p>He sees him – in his sleep, at school, in blue waters, near convenience stores, beside the window panes or under the tree shades. He feels him by his side, rarely warm and often cold but still <em>there. </em>Present. Drowsy<em>. </em>Quiet. But still<em> there. </em>He hears him too, snickering a quip Tobio might not be privy to but still chuckle at, reading profound insights aloud that Hinata will whine about for its obscurity and Yamaguchi will struggle to decipher and eventually fathom. He knows Tsukishima is around because he smells him. He notes the scent of strawberry, like the ice cream he bought last evening. Sometimes it's lemon or orchids. Sometimes it's not even a fruit or a flower, but a wispy, homey sort of aroma. Most of the times, he would smell like Miyagi – its fresh air and idle horizons, and green and florid meadows. </p><p>Tobio finds him everywhere. Even when the rest insists he's nowhere to be found but in the rotting shell of his torn flesh and broken bones. <em>Marred. Bloodied. Unrecognisable.</em> Tsukishima is none of that.</p><p>"He's not here, Tobio." His mother would hesitate to tell him, a shushing disagreement to tip his reality out of balance. </p><p>"But he is." Of course, Tobio would protest. <em>He's with me</em>, his musings add. </p><p>And his mother would bare him a woeful smile, lips thin and crestfallen - eyes despondent and unclear. She would hold him close to her chest and cradle him as though he is mourning, as though he is weeping. In truth, he is not. Why should he? Tobio has no reason to lament. Tsukisihima is right <em>there</em>. He wouldn't sob over a name he still calls lest he wants to be teased by Tsukishima. </p><p>When he explains this to his mother, the woman quietly stares. Fingers card through his locks and lips kiss him on his forehead. For a moment, the two of them would wallow in the despairing silence. And then his mother would speak again.</p><p>"Oh Tobio," she would say, almost close to a wail. Her grip is firmer, <em>stronger</em>. She would sway the both of them to a lulling dance, seated on the bed, shins close to the edge - silent as they hearken to the sirens of their murmuring street. </p><p>"You'll be fine." His mother prays. "You'll be fine."</p><p>Tobio finds her prayers to be unasked. </p><p>Tobio <em>is</em> fine.</p><p>Tsukishima <em>is</em> too.</p><p>There is no reason to be otherwise.</p><p>*</p><p>"He really is dead."</p><p>Hinata murmurs, breathless. Like a statement. Like a fact.</p><p>Tobio gapes at the corpse - so unknown and foreign to him that Tobio does not cry as Hinata does.</p><p>He turns to the other and blinks, free of tears. "Who is?"</p><p>*</p><p>The funeral is set for next week. </p><p>Tobio has no plans of attending.</p><p>His reason is not grandiose. There is neither a poetic argument for it nor a cryptic speculation of any indistinct gestures. Tobio does not find sense in taking part in something he deems purposeless - plain and simple. And so the days align themselves to his wishes of regularity. He drifts by each with ease, content and inactive as the recent days transition into balance. His time is fraught with detachments from the news of the outside. There is not a stagger in his gait or struggle for focus. </p><p>Tobio lives as always. Tobio lives as normal.</p><p>"I'm sorry." The people tell him. His classmates. His teachers. The few who know of the friendships he treasures, the unlikeliness of it and the fondness it bears. They all carry a hangdog weight on their shoulders under the pretence that they feel for and <em>with</em> Tobio. </p><p>Often, Tobio would reply, stuck in a daze that never dulls, "What for?"</p><p>"Tsukishima." </p><p>Sometimes it's Sugawara-san who answers. Sometimes it's Sawamura-san. Tobio would spend a hollow, trivial part of his day heeding to a chain of apologies. He hears it from the rest of the team. He sees it in the eyes of his coaches. He senses it in Yachi's compliant silence or Shimizu-san's practised composure. Tobio feels it more in Yamaguchi's weak caresses and Hinata's undisguised malaise. A mix of veiled patience and unbridled pity, they all regard him the same.</p><p>Hope is written on their gloomy faces. <em>Forgiving</em>, as they wait for Tobio to understand.</p><p>"What about him?" Tobio attempts to understand. When he's given a look of sadness, he recoils apace. The inflection of his words is scarred and distrustful - as though learning more would rattle the sense of his reality. </p><p><em>There is fear in truth because it offtimes passes.</em> His father is a frequent voice in his mind. The unabashed intrusion drives Tobio to re-examine all the sides of his actuality that he tries anew. To discern. To grasp. To accept. </p><p>
  <em>What is <b>was</b> cannot be rectified, Tobio.</em>
</p><p>But there is no <em>was</em> to correct. There is no <em>was</em> to dread. </p><p>There is only Tsukishima. And he stays. He <em>lives</em>.</p><p><em>Oh Tobio</em>. Now, his crowd of gawkers stare at him the same way as his mother does. <em>You'll be fine.</em></p><p>
  <em>*</em>
</p><p>"They keep saying you're dead." </p><p>There is a thin blue line that separates Tobio and Kei. Kei catches the hush of his voice despite the division.</p><p>"Do you believe them?" Kei leans on a pillar owned by a place Tobio obscurely recalls. It's a colourless haze of silver clouds and arctic winds, their distinctions only determined through time's lumbering resistance.</p><p>Tobio hums to the whispers of brume. There is no dawn, or dusk or twilight.  </p><p>"You're not dead." He ascertains. Then he pauses, dithering. "Are you?"</p><p>Kei only shakes his head and smiles, secretive.</p><p>"Am I?" He doesn't ask. He challenges Tobio.</p><p>The thin line blurs and Tobio rises to chide the morose chirpings fleeting by his bedroom windows.</p><p>It is only after the panicked calls of his clock recede to a whir that Tobio registers the absence of a definite answer.</p><p>*</p><p>"You don't have to push us away." Hinata reminds him one afternoon before practice. They are alone, left to command the noise of their cramped locker room. They appear earlier than the others but resemble a wrinkling time. <em>Corpses</em>. They might as well be jaded, festering corpses. </p><p>Tobio gapes at Hinata. A quiet and minimal acknowledgement. He tilts his head and urges the other. Soundless.</p><p>The shorter is frigid under the pin of his inscrutable gaze. Perhaps, Hinata sees the static that whirls in the vacancy of his eyes.</p><p>"Yamaguchi and I..." The boy bites his lips. His tone is timorous, barely a competition for the droning purrs of the air. "We feel it too. We hurt too. For Tsukishima." Then, as if fuelled by the last bits of fostered certainty, he raises the chin he's kept down for days to solace him. "You're withering. But you don't have to go through this alone."</p><p>Tobio bites back another objection. He has repeated the denial so many times now that there is no saying when it will be proven untrue. It is an exhausting endeavour to humour their assertions. Like a liability, Tobio feels pressured to reciprocate - to cave and admit to something he fails to see as anything but false. Tobio does not believe them. But they persist he must.</p><p>"I don't need anything." So he says, worn from their adamant insistence. Whatever farce play of sympathy they give him, Tobio is too guarded to trust. He descries their pitying regards, their unasked consolations and their looks of anguish. For him. For Tsukishima. Those things, Tobio considers as inessential. He doesn't need them. He doesn't need anyone and,</p><p>"I don't need you."</p><p>And Hinata could very well slap him for that. He could sneer at him and call him every mean-spirited adjective in the dictionary. Perhaps he would love to admonish him too - to act righteously as he always does and Tobio will allow any of the choices.  He is just as surprised for admitting a sentiment so effortlessly. Uncaring. Insensitive. Inconsiderate. <em>Heartless</em>.</p><p>"Okay." </p><p>Instead, Hinata does nothing but smile at him. The tint of his lips is pale, wobbly as he chews on the skin. He draws back from Tobio's space. Tobio knows the boy is trying to concede from something he must have treated as significant. There is no longer urgency in his movements. They are languid, <em>dispirited</em>. He flinches from the drop of Tobio's careful tone, the one Sugawara-san would often tease him about for being soft and gentle. He reels when Tobio attempts a gesture of apology and falters to connect with him again. The boy now acknowledges him as crass and uninviting. The boy now sees him as unimportant enough to leave behind.</p><p>"Okay," Hinata repeats. His voice is pained, heartsick. "I...I'll be here when you need me."</p><p>Tobio does not believe his promise. He knows Hinata does not believe it either.</p><p>He does not fault Hinata for the lack of conviction. He is expected to be <em>there</em>. A compulsory act of humanity. Because no one wants to appear indifferent. They want to be thought of as an ally - a <em>friend</em>. </p><p>But Tobio has no need for that too.</p><p>*</p><p>"I know it's hard," Yamaguchi tells him, pushed away by the spiteful boundary of Tobio's locked door. He begs anyway, sure that Tobio hears. "But please come."</p><p>The boy's pleas are left unanswered, whisked by the hush breeze of Tobio's definite and purposive <em>absence</em>. </p><p>The funeral goes on without him.</p><p>*</p><p>Kei does appear in his dreams. He vanishes into a mist of forgettable blurs. </p><p>In the haste of his disappearance, Tobio forgets to think about anything but him.</p><p>Several calls remain neglected. Some never hear the hum of Tobio's half-hearted <em>yes</em> and <em>no</em>. Some whine and demand for longer responses. But their requests are eventually left ignored. Tobio does not get their efforts. He finds no value in them. To Tobio, they are unsolicited, intruding and undesired. </p><p>Sooner or later, the calls will quell. And Tobio, after days of dissuading them, would at long last find peace in the horrors of his abandonment.</p><p>*</p><p>"Stop hiding, Tobio." His father urges him one bright day. The sunlight creeps past his window panes and sheds light to the clutter of his safe-haven. "You've been staying in your room for weeks. God knows you need to get yourself some fresh air."</p><p>Tobio obliges with little fuss. He could feel his toes twitching, bones awake and limbs free from the confines of heavy blankets. It's been a month since his body has shown itself outside the walls of his room. The school barely hears of him anymore. To the world, his rest is impermanent and leaves little impact. To Tobio, the world stays stagnant. The both of them, though fleeting, are unchanged. </p><p>"Take a walk. Go to the convenience store. Sit in the park and sunbathe." Tobio's father advises. "Anything to keep yourself grounded." <em>Anything to remind yourself you're alive.</em></p><p>He huffs at the older's unsaid scheme. The reminder is always there. From his father. His mother. He reads it from the worry etched in his parents' faces. He reads it from his sister's obstinate nudges. He reads it from the countless messages sent his way. Left on read. Never acknowledged. Rejected.</p><p>"Just try it." His mother adds to the constant pleas. "Give yourself respite."</p><p>And he finds the thought ironic. He has kept to himself all the time, never one to encourage others in the little space in his bubble he usually reserved for visitors. Tobio marvels what a miracle it has been that no one from his family thought to disown him yet. He has been spending his days uselessly, unabashed of the duties he's left untended. The neighbours definitely regard him a shameless, good-for-nothing son. His family must too. </p><p>The more he walks away from the safety of his home, steps widened and tension unravelled - the more Tobio finds that he does not care one bit about the others. What they think of him, what they see and hear. Tobio has no qualms of brushing it all aside. </p><p>He takes a walk just as his father says. Two streets and four slopes. Then he turns to a corner to buy ice cream, strawberry, like the scent of summer. He sits on a lonesome bench and admires the predictable green greetings of Miyagi. Tobio laughs to himself at the absurdity of it all. The simple, unvarying way of life. The world could not be more apparent about his temporary existence.</p><p>So he gapes at the world to show his nonchalance. Tobio wants to make it so that the world knows it does not matter to him too.</p><p>He ganders at the clearing, the children that frolic around and cheer with theirs fists up, the lovers that hide beneath the shade of wilting trees and the scattered strangers that only intend to pass by.</p><p>Tobio surveys the place once more and tenses. There, right behind a trail of wolf's-bane, a shadow skulks. He sticks out like sore thumb ready to disappear from view if caught. His walk is alert. His shoulders are rigid. There is a frost in the air that he invades and gloom crowds over him. Like a neon sign, Tobio is warned of the passerby's threat.</p><p>It is only when he turns, as though to bare himself to Tobio and think nothing of the consequences, that Tobio feels the warnings of the wind. The face that meets him is none other than Kaito. Kaito the ex. Kaito the stalker. Kaito -</p><p>His legs move before his brain could catch up to the realisation. Aggrieved, the turmoil of his stomps abrade the soil. He bumps against bodies, some grousing in mumbles, others in near-hysterics. But Tobio pays no mind of his offences. He sets his focus on the man. </p><p>Left with a mere foot to cover, Tobio closes their distance. He tugs on the man's arm and forces a pivot out of him. </p><p>"What the hell!" Kaito's voice is heavily-accented. He appears burly and tall but his bewildered look erases all aura of threat. What remains is a startled man who barely has time to register the punches Tobio lands on each of his cheeks. </p><p>Tobio hears a crowd form around them. A man tries to call his attention. A woman gasps in horror and children cry from behind him. Tobio has no interest in their noises. He knees the man and yanks him by his collar. Rage clouds his vision. His mind is muddled, uncertain of its own intentions. The skin of his knuckles is scraped, bleeding crimson.</p><p>"Give him back." Tobio hears himself say. He fails to fully comprehend the meaning behind them. Tobio only knows that Kaito has to be stopped. He is a danger. A <em>suspect</em>. He's a -</p><p>"Killer." He says the word without thought. Then, tightening his grip, he slams the man to the ground. Kaito struggles under him, weakened from the unforeseen assault. </p><p>"F-fucking hell! Get the fuck off me, you crazy bastard!" The man tries to land a hit and misses. Not one to give up, Kaito dares again. This time he reaches out for the boy's throat and strangles him without hesitation.</p><p>Tobio roars at his retaliation and leans back. Nimbly, he returns the strangle. With his added weight pressed on the man's stomach, he takes the upper hand and strengthens his hold on the man's neck. All Tobio feels is desperate fury.</p><p>"You killed him! You killed Tsukishima!" He bellows, tearing his voice. "Give him back!"</p><p>A pause stalls the man's motions. Tobio, through his bleary lenses, sees the older's eyes dilate in recognition.<em> He knows the name.</em> That alone has Tobio seething in resentment.</p><p>Eagerly, he forces the man to stay immobile. The grip of his fingers is unforgiving and determined on depriving the man of air. Little by little, the Kaito's body stills. He whines for air through his suffocated gasps. With one last force, he knees Tobio's abdomen. The weight of his force is strong and violent, pushing the boy off of him with vicious ease.</p><p>The last Tobio sees before Kaito returns his punches is the haze of red and blue sirens.</p><p>*</p><p>"This is your first warning." The policeman before him is a stern and balmy middle-aged man with a greying moustache. He regards Tobio with both exasperation and sympathy, perhaps used to the frequent teenagers that cause ruckuses worthy of the authority's intervention. "One more and you might get into deeper trouble, young man. You're lucky Kaito-san hasn't pushed any charges."</p><p>Tobio perks up at the man's name. "He's a killer." He mutters through his gritted teeth.</p><p>"That's enough, Tobio." His sister sits beside him. She pins the boy with a reproachful glare, slightly shaking her head in disappointment. "Once this is over you will apologise to Kaito-san immediately. It's only good luck that the police did not call mom and dad instead. If you cause another problem, I cannot guarantee your luck at home either." </p><p>"Apologising will not be necessary, ma'am." The officer interferes. "Kaito-san accepts your apologies in advance. I believe he has some important business to attend to and so he might not be able to personally meet up with you."</p><p>Mina sighs, disheartened. "Is there any we could contact him? We might be able to agree on a date. Leaving things as is does not feel right to me."</p><p>The man offers her a smile, regretful. "I'm afraid I cannot allow that. He's been very adamant about not giving his contact details to anyone."</p><p>Tobio scoffs. <em>And isn't that suspicious</em>, he wants to point. Mina's aura of warning deters him from speaking the accusation aloud.</p><p>"I see." The woman refrains from requesting again, but there is a guilt-ridden scowl sketched over her face. Not for the first time, Tobio realises the corollaries of his impulsivity. "Well then, I guess we're done here?"</p><p>The policeman nods in affirmation. His grunts come out bated as he stands to return the woman's handshake. "I hope this will be the last time I see you."</p><p>Tobio is aware the reminder is directed at him. Still, Mina feels much obliged to do that talking for the both of them. It appears it would be the best course of action seeing as Tobio is yet to feel his gums. Kaito's fists are not to be messed with. That bit of detail only adds more weight to Tobio's increasing distrust for the man. Maybe, if Tobio is given even a smidgen of leeway, he can prove -</p><p>"Don't even think about it." Mina's warning echoes at the same time as the hiss of her car's door. They enter quietly, tension evident.</p><p>The thumps of her fingers on the steering wheel are loud, laden with ire, dissatisfaction and...<em> dolour</em>. Much like their mother, the woman is in a state of confusion. She acts unfamiliar with Tobio. Anxious and doubtful. There is an abysmal rift that befuddles her from reaching out to Tobio. </p><p>Tobio concludes most of the people have forgotten how to behave around him. If there ever is a need to do that. Tobio has lost contact of the outside. Just a few more days to waste and he would be deemed alien to the world, unknown to the people that once knew him. <em>The curse of Impermanence - </em>as Tsukishima describes.</p><p>Like the transient view of the fields, though lush and alive, he transforms into faint brush strokes. </p><p>"What do you plan next?" </p><p>His sister's disruption pulls him away from his window musings. Tobio glimpses at a slanted post and thinks distantly about its inevitable fall. </p><p>"I don't know." Tobio answers. The pads of his fingers smother his voice, palm glued to his cheek as he leans further into the tainted pane. </p><p>"Well, you have to know soon." Mina cautions. Another bump lightly rocks them off their seats. Once they drive on straight lanes, the older reaches forward to pat Tobio on his head. She continues, eyes on the road, "You can't stay like this, Tobio."</p><p>Tobio replies with a sound hush. He says nothing to the older.</p><p>Tobio is immensely conflicted. About himself. About the events and the people affected by it. About the grieving mothers and lurking shadows. About Tsukishima. About his reasons. About his <em>death </em>-</p><p>No. Not death. He's not dead. Tsukishima is not -</p><p>"We're here." Mina's announcement resounds in his ears. It gyrates, a booming interference to his wandering apprehensions. </p><p>They come to halt in a slow and rumbling fashion. The humble entryway of their home welcomes them in an inviting familiarity. There is a delay before Mina turns off the engine. Gingerly, she throws a pouch towards Tobio. It lands on his lap and jingles, the zipper partly opened to reveal a peek of cosmetic products.</p><p>"Cover up as much of the bruises as you can." Mina instructs. "Mom invited Tsukishima's mother for dinner. You probably don't want to make a bad impression."</p><p>Tobio stiffens. "She's here?"</p><p>"Can't say much about why mom invited her, but Tsukishima-san was more than willing to come." Mina pauses, turning again to pat Tobio's shoulder. "Listen, I know it's going to be hard for you to face anyone right now but try not to cause any trouble for Tsukishima-san. You're both grieving. Best not to provoke negative emotions."</p><p>Tobio does his best to nod. Though the frayed ends of his pitch are coarse, he manages to whisper a reply. "I'm not grieving."</p><p>Mina casts him a smile, void of sincerity. It emerges a much more subdued acceptance. Her gaze narrows with little belief in her brother's words. She paints a patent picture of disagreement. </p><p>"Okay buddy," She gives Tobio's locks a parting ruffle. Her volume is indiscernible through the unsteady atmosphere. When she exits, all Tobio hears is a taunting afterthought: </p><p>
  <em>No one believes you, Tobio. </em>
</p><p>Tobio carries the insecurity to dinner - where nothing but the lulling chatters of women and the rhythmic taps of water in the sink could keep him distracted.</p><p>The beginning of dinner is polite. Tsukishima-san and mother appear oblivious to the hangdog stress of Mina's tone or Tobio's curt nods. All around them the air is festive and light. No slips of dead names circulate to ruin the evening.</p><p>His mother's chair is distanced far from him. An easy solution to keep her ignorant of the bruises Tobio had concealed with a mix of powder and foundation. Mina assigns herself next to his right, keen on shielding the woman's view of Tobio's more obvious wounds. He hadn't bothered to inspect the injuries despite their stinging pressure on his lungs. Tobio figures it was best he'd worn an oversized hoodie this morning lest Tsukishima-san discovers the bruises and alert his mother about it. It was of wise intentions that Mina had urged the woman to sit beside their mother instead.</p><p>"It's certainly been such a tough time." </p><p>Tobio twitches at Tsukishima-san's tone. It's laced with vulnerability, embraced by a veil of more profound sorrow. A perfect fit for a childless mother, Tobio must say. </p><p>"Akiteru and I..." Tsukishima-san drops her chin. There is elegance in the way she displays her heartache. Like any tormented griever, Tsukishima-san poses herself as strong and tenacious. She returns to an uptight expression as Tobio's mother holds her hand in a gesture of empathy. Assured, Tsukishima-san musters the courage to continue. "We're still trying to come to terms with all of this. Just a week ago he was fine. But I suppose my Kei thinks himself otherwise."</p><p>An eager question hangs in the air. Tobio brazenly asks it without a thought. "How would you know?"</p><p>His gritty voice catches Tsukishima-san off-guard. And so she tenses, posture wary. It is only after she adjusts herself in her seat that she becomes more amiable to the family. "Know what, Tobio-kun?"</p><p>Tobio's voice races ahead of his mother's. He scratches on his wounded skin, scraping a layer to keep himself rooted in place. "Everyone has a version of their own about his reasons. So how about you? What made you think he wasn't fine?"</p><p>"Tobio." This time it's mother who intercepts. Tsukishima-san is quick to parry the admonition. She raises a hand to assure mother, fixating her attention solely on Tobio. The passive, unaffected lines of her ageing face seem keen on giving out an answer.</p><p>"When Kei and Akiteru lost their father, Kei was immensely distraught by it." Tsukishima-san begins. The sheen of her nails are transparent, chipped at the edge and devoid of bold colours. "There was a storm...the currents were harsh. Kei slipped and glided down the riverbank. The water had been gushing out everywhere. Kei was easily swept by it. Handa didn't even hesitate to dive in to save him."</p><p>Tsukishima-san sighs at the story in a doleful, fond manner. She thumps a nail on the rim of her cup. Inadvertently, Tobio glimpses a dot of fading red at the tip of her fingernail. He surmises the woman had not cleaned much of the paint on some of them.</p><p>Staring pensively, Tsukishima-san continues, "A branch fell and hit my husband in the head. When he'd finally gotten Kei out of the river...he had been too tired to do the same thing for himself." To conclude her story, Tsukishima-san explains its importance. "To this day, Kei still blames himself. Or, <em>blamed</em> himself. He carried the idea of <em>killing</em> his father for too long that it must have tortured him to even swim in the waters."</p><p>A big part of Tobio revels in a triumphant victory. He aches to correct the woman, to point out how she's sorely mistaken and that her dear Kei has no reservations of playing in the waters. His reason begs him to laugh at her, at everyone. Because Tobio is right. The people know nothing about Kei. So badly does Tobio want to shove that in their faces. To shame them for their mistakes. But... he thinks again. And Tobio realises he is the same as the others. Tobio knows nothing about Kei. He only has a portrait of him that he believes is true. Perhaps, Tobio is deserving of the same ridicule - if not more.</p><p>"I'm sorry." So Tobio says. For the first time in a while, his voice bears a hint of emotion. </p><p>The women notice his sincerity and quietly divert the conversation elsewhere. For the rest of the late evening, time is spent on trivial talks.</p><p>Tobio retires to his room, doused in the hues of guilt and aching bruises, heart heavier than ever.</p><p>*</p><p>"Akiteru-san." </p><p>He meets the famed brother on a glum and uneventful Sunday. Today, Tobio wears black to match the attire of a dreary cemetery. Akiteru-san dresses in lighter shades, brown and earthy, ornamented by the cosy scent of his checkered scarf.</p><p>"Hello, Tobio-kun." The older waves. His grin is gentle, tender with warmth and kindness. What separates him from being Tsukishima's exact copy are the tired lines on his forehead and the freckles beautifully splattered beneath his hazelnut irises. "I didn't think I'd see you here at such an early hour."</p><p>Tobio notices the flower in the man's hand. He avoids his gaze, bashful. "I wanted to get some fresh air and figured I could pay a visit while I'm at it."</p><p>"For the first time?" Akiteru-san teases. There is no ill-meaning or animosity in his question. Only a welcome. "I didn't see you during the funeral... your friends said you haven't been attending school either."</p><p>The younger hums, not invested in the reminder. It isn't a secret to everybody how wrecked Tobio's state has been. More often than not his actions do not match the previously painted portrait of his disposition. Rarely does anything connect for Tobio.</p><p>"I just didn't feel like it." He simplifies. Though ambiguous, it stands as one of the few bouts of honesty Tobio has over his words. If he were in a more stable constitution, Tobio would say right then and there he doesn't feel like anything at all.</p><p>It seems the boy is in no predicament to feel misread as Akiteru-san already assumes a perception of him. He, though still blank despite the many emotions of his face, looks to be a master of understanding. Under his gaze, Tobio can't help but feel as though he is completely perused.</p><p>The older confirms this with an invitation. "Would you like to take a walk with me to the park? I'd buy you coffee for your trouble."</p><p>Tired and with little idea to do with his time, Tobio agrees. "I prefer hot chocolate, please."</p><p>Akiteru-san smiles warmly. "Just like Kei."</p><p>He brings up Tsukishima in a manner that Tobio has not heard anyone do. There is no pity or fear - neither a tinge of prolonged awkwardness or undecided pause. Akiteru-san talks of Tsukishima as one would about the sunny weather or the clear waters. He talks of Kei that holds no memory of sadness or woe. Just a brother who reminisces about his sibling like he's yet to tell you the entirety of the tales of their silly misadventures. </p><p>There is nothing but joy in him as he recounts the days when Tsukishima was an unyielding presence. Even when he uses a passing tense, Akiteru-san refers to Tsukishima in the moments that he <em>is</em>. </p><p>When they arrive at an empty, rickety bench, two bodies huddled together to enjoy the new-found gentleness of friendship - Akiteru-san begins to recall his brother's younger days.</p><p>"He was a stubborn kid," He says, reminded greatly of free smiles and twinkling orbs of gold. "When I would come home late from school, he would always meet me with a bruise on his shin or a gash on his cheeks. Mom said he just couldn't keep still. Kei has a bit of an obsession of playing around in the garden, you see. Mom had to rearrange the flower pots after every playtime. Of course, she'd complain about it to Dad but he only found it funny." </p><p>Relishing the welcome, Tobio dares his luck. "Was he still the same? After...your father's death?"</p><p>Akiteru-san sags and reclines, he pockets his hands in the large and fancy pouches of his burgundy overcoat. "Not quite." He remembers sadly. "But he still had a shine in him no one could dampen. He's always been alive to me."</p><p>"I think the same," Tobio adds truthfully.</p><p>There is respite as familiarity settles in their pauses. Halcyon pervades. Gingerly, the calmness erupts into a small gasp. Tobio is once again jerked to alertness as Akiteru-san corrects his lax posture into serious comportment. </p><p>"Before I forget," Akiteru-san evens out the ruffles of his coat. His voice is levelled. "I'd like to thank you."</p><p>Tobio blinks, puzzled. "I'm sorry?"</p><p>The older man hands him a piece of paper. Tobio peers down at it and sees a pair of sharp, untrustworthy eyes glare at him. </p><p>"This..."</p><p>"Kaito, my ex." Akiteru-san finishes for him. "Some days ago he got into a fight with a minor. The reports say the boy had accused the man of being a suspect for stalking behaviour and, <em>well</em>, possibly murder. He called Kaito a shadow of some sort." The man turns to Tobio, barely frightened. "That boy...that was you, wasn't it?"</p><p>Tobio hangs his head and mulls over the few rational replies he could give the other. When nothing works and he is yet to escape Akiteru-san's scrutiny, Tobio decides to concede. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you my reasons."</p><p>The older raises a palm and signs it to mean otherwise. "I'd love to hear about it but I don't want to force you either. I only meant to bring it up because Kaito is now in jail."</p><p>"He is?" Tobio straightens, mouth agape. "H-how...what -why, <em>uhm</em>, what happened?"</p><p>"I've been keenly aware of Kaito's stalking." Akiteru-san scratches his cheek. "I tried to file a complaint before but apparently, my own encounters do not warrant sound evidence to suspect Kaito of anything. I've only caught glimpses of him and they were mostly shadows so I barely had any photographic proofs to take with me. All I had to back me up was a few anonymous comments in my pictures and sketchy packages dropped at my doorstep. The packages weren't really harmful, just a bouquet of roses and love letters - but the police thought those didn't pass for eerie behaviour. Eventually, my complaints were dismissed."</p><p>"They could have done something!" Tobio bemoans. Just the thought of their careless judgment ruffles him. "How are they so incompetent about something so glaringly obvious? T-they could have, <em>no</em>, should have -!"</p><p>"The problem was that Kaito was supposed to be living overseas." Akiteru-san kindly interrupts. "They thought it was a bit of a stretch that an ex-lover I had no contact with for years would take the time to stalk me and send me packages. Unless I could prove to them in some tangible and possible way that Kaito has been following me for years, then I might have a chance to prove his crime."</p><p>Like a flash, the implication clicks in Tobio's mind. He senses the rising satisfaction sink into his bone, proud of his quick-witted discovery. "So when I attacked him that day at the park..."</p><p>"You exposed his location." Akiteru-san nods, grateful. "It wasn't long before the police got a hold of his records and found out he's been lying about his residence."</p><p>"Then he's gone now," Tobio concludes. The momentary taste of victory sours in his mouth. All at once, Tobio remembers the tapes. The late calls with Oikawa-san. The speculations. The suspects. The shadows. The fireflies. The small shed and its view of the forgotten cemetery. </p><p>And a boy named Tsukishima Kei at the centre of it all. </p><p>"He's gone now..." Tobio repeats absently. "You don't have to worry about him anymore." <em>No one has to worry about anything anymore.</em> There are no more suspects to be wary of. No more deaths to be anxious about.</p><p>"I hope so," Akiteru-san responds to him, uninformed of the storm in Tobio's mind. He changes his position again. This time he has one leg crossed over the other. Wordlessly, he fishes a notebook out of his pocket. </p><p>Tobio hears the dismal flutter of doves as he recognises the plain and black cover of a diary. </p><p>"That's..." He points his gaze at the bold letters. They read the same as when Tobio had first laid his eyes on it. <em>TSUKISHIMA</em>.</p><p>"Kei's diary," Aktieru-san says. He cradles the notebook in his protective hold. "Oikawa-kun gave it to me after the funeral. He said Kei would have wanted me to have it. But I figured someone else might be more deserving of it. I tried to return the diary to him but he wouldn't accept. I thought you wouldn't mind if I gave it to you instead."</p><p>Tobio extends his hands before his mind could reconsider. When the weary binds of the diary land atop the indents of his palms, a spark of recognition flows through Tobio's fingertips. </p><p>He feels nothing but tired acceptance.</p><p>"We thought there was a killer." He mumbles, weak. "We thought someone wanted to kill him."</p><p>Even when Akiteru-san does not know half the story, even when he does not have the barest clue of what Tobio means - he manages to understand. They both feel it strongly. The gnawing lure of hopelessness. The prickling sensation of denial. The ache of a loss.</p><p>"I wonder..." Akiteru-san whispers. "If some suicides could be considered as murder."</p><p>*</p><p>Once, Yamaguchi had told Tobio something about the beautiful horror of music.</p><p>"They trigger different memories." He said, in that ardent and passionate tone of his. "Some say they're magic."</p><p>"But what makes them scary?" Tobio remembered asking more about it.</p><p>"They say most of the memories aren't even yours." </p><p>*</p><p>A storm rages on Miyagi during the latter part of the new week. It is nighttime and everyone is sound asleep, safe in the comforts of their heated covers and blissfully unwary of tomorrow. Only the whistles of angry winds and torrential downpour could lull the restful into a deeper slumber. Time is at a standstill, pausing in awe at the sheer violence of the skies. </p><p>Tobio takes two empty blinks at the ceiling before he decides himself one of the few unlucky, sleepless fools of the bitter evening. It is to his misfortune that even the harmonious songs of the storm cannot erase the phantom in front of Tobio's vision.</p><p>Tonight he is visited again by a gleam of gold and pale white. Tsukishima hovers above him like any ghost would in their quest to haunt.</p><p><em>"Come with me."</em> The boy says with little shame for his unannounced presence. <em>"I want to show you something."</em></p><p>Tobio shakes his head and the shape of the boy turns more translucent. He peeks at his bedside table and sees the clock strikes three then whirls into non-existence. Tobio belatedly realises the severity of his delusions.</p><p>"You're not real."</p><p>The boy pouts at him, childlike. Far from the real Tsukishima's pained scowls of discomfort. <em>"But I am, Tobio."</em></p><p>"Come with me." The boy urges.</p><p>Tobio glances at gold and feels its subtle beam swallow him whole. He scrunches his nose, guarded. "Please stop. You're not supposed to be here. You're not -" <em>You're not supposed to exist.</em></p><p>Tsukishima gasps at him in bewilderment. With his frail fingers, he cups Tobio's cheeks. The ends of his words come in shushes. <em>"Don't be like that, Tobio. You have to trust me."</em></p><p>"Why?" Why should he? Why should Tobio even care to believe him? Why should Tobio even dare to amuse him?</p><p>Why does he still feel for a ghost that has long overstayed its welcome?</p><p>
  <em>"Because you promised, Tobio."</em>
</p><p>Tsukishima latches on to his hand. Within a second's touch, the world around Tobio blurs. What meets his sight next is the splash of a wrathful storm. Water engulfs Tobio in its murky nothingness. Tobio, clad in nothing but his loose shirt and flimsy shorts, vaguely makes up the direction of his steps.</p><p>All he knows is that his reality is deranged. His mind is disturbed, instincts unhinged. He follows only the patters of Tsukishima's feet. And though the rain pours down in heavy weights, Tobio still hears that the footsteps are louder. He is under the care of the rumbling horizons. The lightning sheds him clarity. It guides him closer and closer towards the permanent illusion that has manifested into Tsukishima's being.</p><p>The greater the trek and the dimmer the trace of the landscape becomes, the less Tobio cares to question the situation he has put himself in. How did he get here? Why did he get here? Is there witchcraft to fault? Can reality ever explain to him an easier truth? Such questions do not resonate as much in Tobio's head.</p><p>Tobio has simply gone mad.</p><p><em>"Tobio!" </em>Tsukishima calls to him. Only a bare surface of his silhouette peeks through the murk. <em>"Right here, Tobio!"</em></p><p>Tobio dodges a smite of wind with the cursory raise of his elbows. Soil crumbles under the grip of his bare toes. The hasty indecision in his gait widens his distance from the other.</p><p>"Tsukishima!" He calls out, panic-stricken. Has he lost the boy now? "Where are we going! I can't keep up much longer!"</p><p>The thunders muffle most of his yells. But Tsukishima, a phantom graced by supernatural advantages, hears him loud and clear. Neither a shake nor a distortion in his bellow. </p><p>In an instant, he emerges before Tobio. His body is dry even when enveloped by the piercing strings of water. He looks alive in Tobio's eyes - an insult to his soaked and <em>decaying</em> human body. </p><p>
  <em>"We're here." </em>
</p><p>The rain stills just as Tsukishima lets out the words.</p><p>Without being instructed, Tobio surveys their destination. He ganders at a wall, its modicum hint of paint wearing thin. He sees two posts, sturdy but hideous after years of neglect. One swift turn at the ceilings and the cobwebs, the scribbles and vandalised planks - the cemetery...</p><p>"Why are we in the shed?" Tobio's question comes out raspy. He faces Tsukishima and sees the boy slightly shrink in height. "Why did you bring me here?"</p><p><em>"I want you to remember."</em> Tsukishima whispers. <em>"You're the only one who didn't forget."</em></p><p>"What do you want me to remember?" Tobio asks, torn and heaving.</p><p>Tsukishima approaches him in muted strides. He takes Tobio's hand in his and without saying anything, he laces their fingers together. When Tobio looks to see where the boy will land their palms, he finds himself tracing each carefully-inscribed drawings on a wooden post.</p><p>Tsukishima leads his fingers until they halt just below a pair of characters.</p><p>Two stick figures, huddled close together in an imitation of a shed, with rain pelting down on its frayed rooftops and -</p><p>
  <em>Kei &amp; Tobio</em>
</p><p>Tobio presses on the names and sees his vision darken. He succumbs to a spontaneous slumber.</p><p>*</p><p>Summer, 2005. </p><p>
  <em>Tobio loses sight of his parents while hiking. Unperturbed, he proceeds to venture the undiscovered trails alone. One shrouded path lures him to its territory. The track unwinds and leads him straight to a shed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The shed is green and fresh with flowers. The ground that surrounds it blooms in colourful arrangements. Daisies. Roses. A wispy cluster of dandelions. Tulips and Lilacs. All in varying shades of soft pink, orange, yellow and red.  And though humbled, the shed itself rises above the scenery like a marbled pavilion. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tobio marvels at the enchanting display. He absorbs the hidden world with his curious eyes, thrilled at the sheer luminosity of its existence. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What are you doing here?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>A young boy peeks from behind the shed's post. His eyes are golden much like the sun and skin pale like the lustre of the clouds. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I got lost," Tobio tells the other. Without asking, he advances towards the shed and crouches just across the boy. "I wanted to see the flowers."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boy blinks. He pulls his knees closer to his chest. "You don't look frightened."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Mama knows where to look for me," Tobio assures confidently, though he isn't sure himself how his mother would find him. "You're the one who looks frightened. Are you lost too?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boy shakes his head. "No. I didn't want Mama to find me so I hid here."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Why wouldn't you want her to?" Tobio pries. He sneaks a peek at the boy's face and sees his cheeks, though rosy, bleed in scratches. "Did you do anything bad?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I don't think so." The boy mutters. "I always do as she says."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Peeved by the hint of sadness in the boy's voice, Tobio crawls closer to his side. "Don't cry. I'll stay with you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You will?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I will," Tobio promises. He fishes out his music player from his pocket and hands the boy the right bud of his earphones. "Here. We can listen to songs together."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Intrigued, the boy takes the bud with his lithe fingers and pushes it to his ear. "This sounds happy."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Uh-huh. I call it my happy playlist." Tobio beams. Pausing, he takes in the other's appearance. Blond locks. Long lashes. Scruffy shoes and a wrinkled sweater. A moon draws itself at the centre of his sweater. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"T...sukki?" The cursive reads below.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"That's my name." The boy corrects. He hides his chin as if embarrassed. "My name is Tsukishima Kei."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Tsukishima Kei." Tobio tries to pronounce the name. Grinning, he offers a handshake to the other. "Hello Kei, I'm Kageyama Tobio. It's nice to meet you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Kei returns his smile. Even when blue and bruised, Kei's eyes hold a blissful colour of their own far more beautiful than the flowers around them. "It's nice to meet you too, Tobio."</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the next chapter will be in kei's pov now, and a parallel world will be presented,</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. all the songs of grieving</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>in this chapter, we are shown glimpses of a different world - a life that happens ahead of its many versions.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello! because we're nearing the end of this fic, i thought this would be the right time for me to share some of the songs that i think would make a good playlist for this story - i'm listing down below the names of the songs and the artists, so if you're interested, you can check them out (´ ∀ ` *)</p><p>* wings by birdy<br/>* where's my love by syml<br/>* wildfire by syml<br/>* i of the storm by of monsters and men<br/>* yellow light by of monsters and men<br/>* are we there yet by ingrid michaelson<br/>* fear of the water by syml<br/>* the wisp sings by winter aid</p><p>i'd love to hear the songs that you think would fit in this playlist too ( ´ ▽ ` )( ´ ▽ ` )</p><p>* forgive me for any overlooked errors and please, have a good read with this chapter &lt;3 ___〆(・∀・)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Warm</em>. His father's palms are warm.</p><p>Kei traces roughened ridges and tan lines, creeping up to the nooks that hide in between scratchy fingers. There is little space void of callus. What naked surface remains, glints in unwashed bruises. The width of its grasp boasts a world of its own, sager than the young and untainted skin that clings to it. </p><p>Novel caresses stroll in artless hues. Up the flat marks down to the worn creases. Kei bares his questions true and eager for reflection. And he wonders, in all those years of teasing secrecy, if a fading stroke or a peeking scar would ever paint him a picture of the adventures his father is yet to speak of.</p><p>Still, of the many things unknown to Kei, there is one his father always shares.</p><p>
  <em>"The sky is a boundless sea, Kei. We're drowning in unseen waters."</em>
</p><p>Often, his father would say it in wistful sighs, privy to a place unseen to anyone but him.</p><p>So he draws on skin - just to understand better the secret told.</p><p><em>"They're without clouds, Kei."  </em>The voice of it would hint, drawing out wispy illusions. <em>"It looks like we're underwater."</em></p><p>And, Kei would ponder on the words for days. </p><p>And, Kei would dream of going above the horizons.</p><p>
  <em>"Someday, Kei. Someday."</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Water sinks to the very last layer of his skin and robs him of life.</p><p>When he rises to land, he is clothed in the freezing drip of rigid ripples.</p><p>Kei's weeping calls drift into deafened drafts. He sheds his skin of terror and claws through fraying fabrics. Death hangs on the body it rests on, doused in the reek of rotting sunlight. In his arms lies a man void of name, void of voice.</p><p>
  <em>"Papa...?"</em>
</p><p>There is not a single sound but the waning drop of air.</p><p><em>Cold</em>. His father's palm is cold.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>"Poor child."</em>
</p><p>The dismal glow of the cemetery pours over their weeping shoulders. Kei listens on as the drizzle of rain subside, replaced hastily by whispered pity.</p><p>There is a hand on his shoulder and a tombstone that chants his name.</p><p>
  <em>"Poor, poor child." </em>
</p><p>The gawking never quells, and it echoes in the hush of mourning sons.</p><p>
  <em>"He'll carry this burden forever."</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Kei is ten when he kills his father.</p><p>
  <em>"I wish it was you instead."</em>
</p><p>- his mother stays awake to curse his name.</p><p>*</p><p>The first time his mother hits him, he doesn't cry. But he questions it.</p><p>It happens behind close doors - as all family secrets would. There are enough walls to chain him to, enough corners to stain with the scent of fright and threat, enough of his mother's voice to ring and resound its most vicious curses and enough of his brother's absence to echo in gullible incaution. </p><p>Kei feels there is enough torment to bleed him dry of youth or fervour.</p><p>- but there are not enough windows for the days he is not allowed a smidgen of sunlight, or doors for escape, or exits for refuge. Not a friend or companion but his brothers nagging <em>why's</em>, <em>where's</em> and<em> how's </em>reaching miles away from the makeshift prison cell of his own mother's scathing tongue. There's not enough of him to tell his brother the soreness that tears his skin. He shares no real reasons for the gash he insists as accidents from made-up peers, or the quiver of lips too sealed to ask for help. </p><p>Kei shares delusions of plays from outside. Perhaps he had been to unwary and slipped on a slope. Perhaps he had been too absorbed in his fun that he had bumped his head against a wall. Perhaps, Kei had been savouring much of the outside that he would always miss a step and fall. Perhaps - his mother had told him to ramble in lies that he had made himself believe they were memories of his own.</p><p>Just because there is simply not enough of him to be brave and let slip the truth. </p><p>Just because there is simply not enough of Kei to see his mother as nothing but a wretched, broken woman.</p><p>He thinks, for an instance of repose free from the cautions of his mind, how unfairly he has been subjected to cruelty, how greatly he has been minimized into nothing but crumbs of his incomplete youth - but then he thinks wiser and worries that he shouldn't have such thoughts. Kids shouldn't have such thoughts. </p><p>
  <em>"It's all your fault anyway."</em>
</p><p>And Kei believes that to be true. </p><p>And Kei believes that to be fate.</p><p>The next time his mother hits him, he doesn't cry. He no longer questions it.</p><p>But he counts.</p><p>
  <em>19.</em>
</p><p>*</p><p><em>Red</em>. His mother's nails are painted red.</p><p>Bit by bit they drip in crimson droplets. </p><p>Kei sees nothing but a monster transforming. </p><p>*</p><p>"Has the rain stopped pouring?"</p><p>It's the first his brother asks him when he calls.</p><p>Kei laughs at the audacity he flaunts and detests the days he had waited for even just a sliver of his presence. "What rain? It's always sunny where I live."</p><p>He makes no mistake when he owns <em>it - his </em>home where brother once taught him to spike a ball, <em>his </em>town where brother once walked with him every dusk, the parks they used to laze around, the beach they used to camp at and the skies that swallow Miyagi that once was theirs to read together. He owns his life and exempts the older from it. It's the least he could spat as revenge for the distance - for the unanswered messages and unheeded pleas of <em>take me with you </em>and <em>don't leave me, </em>for the fickle support and too-shallow comforts that render him numb.</p><p>It's the least Kei can manage to scorn his brother for, spent of any emotion but searing rage. It's the least Kei can make himself do. Even when knows Akiteru cannot heal him. Akiteru is not a hero. Akiteru is not his consolation. Akiteru is faithless. Akiteru is a liar -</p><p>He gives less fault to his brother because in all the days he had been abandoned by him, Kei still dangles on the future his promises.</p><p>
  <em>"Things will be fine Kei. We'll travel the seas together someday."</em>
</p><p>"Kei? Are you there?"</p><p><em>Are you there?</em>  He wants to return. But Kei is already certain of the answer. </p><p>- Akiteru does not care.</p><p>There is no better solace than the acceptance of such truth. </p><p>*</p><p>"T...sukki?"</p><p>He meets him under the shed of a blooming garden. It's nowhere near spring, but the peak of evergreen is stretched far and beyond the fields.</p><p>"That's my name," He answers to the boy. Shame invades his lips, sealing it shut with a sneering reminder of what it means to be his name - what it is to be Tsukishima Kei. <em>A lonesome, fleeting, unimportant soul. </em>Kei sags and hides a chin behind tucked knees. "My name is Tsukishima Kei."</p><p>Just the mention of it is repulsive. Kei barely contains the disgust that pricks on his stomach. </p><p>"Hello, Kei." A hand appears before his drooping eyes. It boasts of healthy skin - well-fed, nurtured and... <em>unharmed</em>. Kei traces the sheen of white and meets striking blue eyes. "I'm Kageyama Tobio. It's nice to meet you."</p><p>Kei blinks blearily through the lingering mist in his eyes, body sore and mind divested of rest. He smiles, even then. And hopes that the sag of his brows and the strain of his lips are not too ugly for the other. </p><p>"It's nice to meet you too, Tobio."</p><p>*</p><p>He gains a friend that he can only meet once every week. It happens in clandestine twilight, the fear of a monster catching up too great to agitate. Kei eludes the paths that is scented by its presence. And the only place safe for meetings lies close at the heart of a forgotten garden mother refuses to visit. Still, Kei is shackled. So he keeps on guard even spoiled with moments of fun.</p><p>Kei knows such moments are ephemeral. <em>There</em> the whole day and gone tomorrow.</p><p>"You don't have to worry. I'll be right here with you." His friend would tell him, dishevelled in his appearance and cheeks rosy with torpid sweat. He often comes wears a hoodie too long for his arms, the length of his short loose but cut just above his grubby knees. When Kei surveys him this time, he catches a glimpse of grubby palms. Perhaps, they had been from all the stealthy crawling he's had to make to sneak out of his room.</p><p>Secretly, Kei wonders if the boy would ever tire of their furtive rendezvous. One day, Kei knows things will come to an end. And yet a whit of him is elated at the uncertainty of Tobio's presence. If he stays, if he goes - there is an instance reserved for Kei to claim as his and Tobio's alone. </p><p><em>A mystery</em>. Something only they are privy to. Something they call theirs.</p><p>"Hey, Tsukki." A voice calls to him, unabashed with its volume. It's kind and slow, but it is full-toned enough to disturb the eventide drafts. The voice plays with its drawl. Stilling and humming and then, inquisitively, it would ask, "Why do you always do that?"</p><p>Where Tobio ambles freely outside the shed's ambits, Kei confines himself in its shadows. Only the peek of his head receives the glow of the moon. And when he sidles closer past the narrow stretch, expression timorous as ever, the gloom scatters across his skin.</p><p> "Do what?" He asks, searching. </p><p>Tobio pads along a line of tottering planks. "You know... like stare blankly at the skies and stuff."</p><p>"The sky," Kei parrots softly. He fixates his stare on Tobio's wobbling legs, the scruffy details of his shoes tethered to the ground. "I love it."</p><p>"You do?"</p><p>Kei nods, meek. "It makes me feel like I'm floating... underwater." </p><p>Tobio falters on a step to ponder on his words. Swiftly, he points his sight above - as thought to imagine the horizons as Kei would imagine them. </p><p>"Huh, I never thought of it that way." The boy contemplates. With his hands, he reaches up to cover the moonlit glare. "But Tsukki, if we're underwater - does that mean the sky can catch us any time?"</p><p>Kei giggles at the possibility. "How so?"</p><p>"W-well...like, <em>er</em>, you know -" Tobio frowns as he struggles for an explanation. "Imagine if you were to jump off a high roof, or a... a plane! If under the sky is water, then that means it can catch your fall right as you slip."</p><p>"That's..." Kei hesitates. It would be easy to disprove the boy's logic and deride him for it. But when Kei thinks better of the boy's supposition, he finds that there is some semblance of sense. "It could happen." </p><p>"Right?" Tobio grins in newfangled excitement. "So if we ever fall, we'll still be safe to see tomorrow."</p><p>Kei commits the thought in mind and thinks, absently, if falling perpetually would mean drifting forever.</p><p>"I like the sound of that." He whispers, more to himself than the other. </p><p>*</p><p>They travel nothing but the skies. What it says, what it shows, what it can be - they listen to every song written in the little box Tobio holds close to his chest. The frayed walls and rotting pillars that shelter them from ceaseless rain never flood their ground. They never teeter. They never stray. They stand steadfast, adhering to consolation when consolation is given. Kei has Tobio, Tobio has Kei. </p><p>Some days they amble far beyond the shade of a declining rooftop. Some days they are enveloped in its enclosure. Some days, Tobio laughs. And most days, Kei laughs with him. Not a space is barren. Not a minute is lonely.</p><p>The days spent in seclusion, hidden away from prying eyes and skulking menace, transcend into days spent in pure, unbridled bliss. No one knows this little secret Kei treasures. No one knows this little place Kei calls home.</p><p>"One day, when we meet again..." Tobio holds his cheeks with unalloyed care. He cradles the, muffling his ears from the gusts of waking winds. "Let's go somewhere else. Just the two of us."</p><p>Kei blinks through sunlit streams. "Where would we go? You're going to leave soon, aren't you?"</p><p>"Anywhere you want to go, Tsukki." He tells him. The fingers press against his skin, warmer than flushed afternoon steam. "I'll be with you."</p><p>Kei clings despite the doubts. He mirrors the other, palms cupping ruddy cheeks, eyes drowning in blue. "Do you promise?"</p><p>Tobio giggles as he nods and points at the wall. There is little space free of scribblings, but Kei can see a blank slate reserved for them. "Tell you what, Tsukki... we can write our names here as proof of our promise."</p><p>"Just our names?"</p><p>"We draw ourselves too!" Tobio beams. "One of me," He draws a head, then a body, then an arm - extending, <em>waiting</em>, "... and one of you."</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>"Let's meet again, Kei."</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Kei dreams of a firefly soaked in mist. When it ascends from the stock-still streams, the ends of its wings pierce the sagging skyline.</p><p><em>"Kei!"</em> His brother, a hazy silhouette of foggy greys, emerges from below the poison glow. He bellows in trepidation, running on tar as glaring eyes prowl the rugged surface. Buzzing, growling, <em>preying</em>. </p><p><em>"Kei!"</em> His brother calls again. This time, the croak of his voice is fraught with panic. <em>"Run!"</em></p><p>Kei moves before his mind could object. His legs are leaden, hindered by gyves. When he sprints, the pace of his strides is frail - unsteady. Kei gasps. He struggles. The black of tar runs ahead of him, hissing as it slithers.</p><p>Kei is trapped. If he does not move now, his brother will be gone. </p><p>They'll take him. They'll take<em> nii-san</em> away. And then there will be no more of Akiteru. And there will be more of -</p><p>
  <em>"KEI!"</em>
</p><p>- oh, it's him. They want Kei.</p><p>*</p><p>"You can't catch them like that."</p><p>There is a boy, taller than his feeble slouch and prouder than his height. He often comes to the same riverside at night. He dresses in pompous wealth and boasts a tremendous amount of fancy jars. Despite the soil that stains his knees, the boy is never burdened by his cluttered baggage. </p><p>"I wasn't trying to." Kei mumbles, diffident in the presence of strangers.</p><p>"You wouldn't be here if that wasn't your motive." The boy nears his side and assumes the open space as his. He fishes out an empty cylindrical glass and lays them on his left. With a net, he catches a pair of bumbling fireflies into his trap. Kei watches in admiration as the swing of wrists fasten its momentum.</p><p>"Here." The boy stretches a hand. Kei gazes at it and sees a spare net swaying. "Use it."</p><p>Kei wordlessly accepts the net and lets it dangle in the droning air. To and fro, he waves the handle until he seizes three, then four, then five. The boy says nothing to him as he leads the fireflies into his jar. Quietly, they collect the bumbling spots of light. The streaks elude them but they are swifter than their stagger. </p><p>Ten, twelve - twenty fireflies and four glowing containers later, Kei sees the same palm extend toward him. </p><p>"Your name," The boy starts, burnt auburn gazing into worn gold. "Tell me."</p><p>Kei gapes at the hand and wonders, for a brief instance, how one could be so brazen as to demand a name. But then the fleeting seconds pass and stir - and Kei chooses to indulge the warmth that grazes his forehead.</p><p>"Hotaru." </p><p>He takes the hand and smiles. Not a hint of Kei slips past his new facade.</p><p>*</p><p>There is a boy, taller than his feeble slouch and prouder than his height. His name is Tooru. He has friends, Hotaru finds out. One an eccentric jester and the other just the same. But one is raven and the other silver. Both are warm regardless.</p><p>Kei learns their names and the ridges of their palms. He commits to memory their many-coloured gazes. And once familiar with their tones and rhythms, he shares as much of himself to them.</p><p>
  <em>"Let's meet again, Hotaru."</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>"What do you see?"</p><p>Kei stares at a tank that towers over his frail shadow. It glows in elusive blue, the whir of a whale's tail resounding through the frames of thick glass. </p><p>"What?" He turns to meet raven locks, swept in funny angles.  </p><p>Tetsurou grins as he points at the tank. Flickering blue engulfs the reflection of his finger. "What do you see in the water?"</p><p>Kei stares longer and contemplates. "Myself," - he supposes.</p><p>Tetsurou hums with a playful drawl, chin nodding. "I see mine too." </p><p>"You do?" Kei perks.</p><p>Tetsurou widens his grin. "Don't you know? The water hides many of our selves."</p><p>"It does?" Kei's accent lilt, fazed. The furrow of his brows doubles as he leans closer to hear better.</p><p>"Like different worlds," Koutarou interrupts from behind them, eyes agog and smile beaming, "All drifting through the currents. Dad said they live different lives."</p><p>"So what do you think your other selves are doing?" Tetsurou asks. Koutarou clings to his side as they wait for an answer.</p><p>Kei blinks at them and shrugs. "I don't know." He admits, honest. Giving himself more time to think, he adds, "But I hope they're happy."</p><p>*</p><p>When he is Hotaru, there are no limits. He travels the blossoming gardens, barren parks, and expanding beaches. When he is Hotaru there are no fetters to rob him of a need - to sprint to the nearest shorelines, or leap across fallen logs and even cavort on age-old boulders. Hotaru is free to run into abandoned marvels and laugh with his friends. Hotaru is free to ramble as he wants, about the skies he sees as waters, the stars he reads as stories - to companions that listen eagerly, to companions that stay. </p><p>When he is Hotaru, he is happy. He is not Kei - poor, pitiful, unwanted Kei who hides by the sidelines. <em>No</em>. He is Hotaru - a loved friend. </p><p>"I'll be sure to remember all of this." He tells them, one balmy morning atop a rundown building. Koutarou ruffles his hair and Tetsurou pats his back. Tooru secures his hand in his grip and they all pass each other smiles. </p><p>
  <em>"I'll be sure to remember you."</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>When he is Kei, he is dead.</p><p>*</p><p>Kei is 15 when his brother dies. </p><p>The story is as muddled as what little he knows of it. </p><p>They said he lived with a lover and was devotedly adored by them. And yet, one sour evening, he was found drenched in a tub of water - drowned in crimson abuse. </p><p>The last Kei sees of him is in a coffin, tucked tight with bruises splayed across too-frigid fingers. They bury his battered body near their father's tombstone. And the people chant the same condolences. And mother chants the same accusation.</p><p>
  <em>"It's your fault. You've cursed this family."</em>
</p><p>Kei believes that to be true.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>Dear Kei,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How have you been? It's been years since I've last heard from you. I wish you could write me back. Even just one letter. Do you remember the playlist I gave you? I hope you still listen to it. Sometimes I play the songs when I think of you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'm 15 now, the same age as you. I still play volleyball. The coaches say I'm getting better at it. I recently joined a team this year. They're all weird people but they have talent. I think you'd like them very much. Maybe you'd even have fun teasing them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>We won a lot of games together. We even made it to the Nationals!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This week, we're going to play in Tokyo. I hope you can come. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'll wait for you, Kei. </em>
</p><p>*</p><p>There is a box. Tucked away in his closet. </p><p>It's filled with tapes he cherishes dearly - words he writes to himself and letters he's yet to give. All brimming with memories of a loving friend.</p><p>Kei keeps it tied and secured with a ribbon he'd taken from mother's velvet dress. </p><p>Soon, he'll have it sent to him.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>Dear Kei,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's your birthday today, isn't it?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If we ever meet again, let's travel the seas together okay?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'll wait for you, Kei. Always.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>*</em>
</p><p>It's the peak of midnight when Kei hears the rustle of sheets behind him.</p><p>"Why aren't you asleep?" Tooru stifles a yawn as he crawls to his side. He drags the trail of his blanket and opens an arm to free a space fit for Kei.</p><p>"I was waiting for the fireflies," Kei whispers as he enters the older's embrace. The soft snores of their peers slacken, dragged by the hush drafts that invade the open patio. </p><p>"They won't be coming today, stupid." The older huffs, endeared. He pulls the boy closer to him. The hold he places on his shoulder is firm and sure. Like a haven, his scent pervades the frosting air and replaces it with a home.</p><p>"You know..." Kei fiddles with the seams of the blanket. "I had a lot of fun today."</p><p>"I'm glad you did." The older sighs in relief. "We had to spend a lot of money on that cake of yours."</p><p>"It was the best I ever had." Kei turns to smile at him. "I think... if I don't wake up tomorrow, I wouldn't mind it. It would be nice to die with this as my last memory."</p><p>"Don't be silly," Tooru frowns. Gently, he pries the younger's hand from the blanket's creases. "Stop with that thought of yours and let's go back to sleep, okay?"</p><p>Kei says nothing as he's pulled to the splayed sheets. Tooru places him between the lump of dozing bodies. Securely, he keeps Kei in his hold. Minutes past and Koutarou's leg rests on his shin. Not a second after, Tetsurou's arm latches on to his hip.</p><p>"Sleep," Tooru warns fondly.</p><p>"I will." Kei promises. And as Tooru settles, bound to a restful slumber, Kei mumbles to his unheeding ears. "Thank you. Today, I was happy."</p><p>*</p><p>The last they hear of him is a peal of passing laughter.</p><p>*</p><p>The day before he kills himself, drenched in tranquil ripples and bleeding gashes - he leaves a friend his one and only box. </p><p>It's filled with notes and tapes of unfamiliar songs. At the back of its loosely tied ribbon sits firmly a badly scribbled sentence.</p><p>It reads: <em>"Let's meet again someday." </em></p><p>The present finds its way to Tobio.</p><p>*</p><p>Tobio heeds to all of the songs meant for him. And as he grieves, he reads all of the words meant for Kei.  </p><p>At dusk, he takes the box with him and lays them on the shore. Waves crawl to it as if lured, pulling and pulling until with no more force left. The box drifts into the abyss, its memories of gold dispersing.</p><p>"Young man, why did you let it go?" An old fisherman emerges from his side. He gawks at the empty blue and then peers sluggishly at Tobio.</p><p>Tobio turns to him and casts a smile, "My friend loves the waters, you see. He would have wanted to travel the seas through them."</p><p>*</p><p>Once darkness shrouds the scenery and alights from above, Kei waves his last farewell . His shadows blur, retreating to the new world.</p><p><em>"Let's meet again someday, Tobio."</em> </p><p>*</p><p>Morning comes. He wakes to the sound of blaring stillness and smothered waves.  When he rises, out from the pull of a long, paralyzing slumber, he falters as the lull of sandy shores and rustling reeds wither and decay.</p><p>Oikawa greets his sight and lets the recognition wipes off his daze. </p><p>"So?" He asks with a tender welcome. The graze of his palm lies close to Tobio's hand. Tobio clings to the offered hold with frigid fingers, the steady rhythm of a wearied walkman playing in the background. "Did you find anything?"</p><p>Tobio bares a woeful smile and cries,</p><p>"I found Kei."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me forcing myself to update faster: 	ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 0:01</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>forgive me for any overlooked errors, and please have fun with this last chapter :&gt;</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The world is driving toward the edge of a precipice. Wherever that precipice leads, Tobio has no idea. Every spectre that haunts its vespers and welkins now dissipate into miasmas of smoke. Or, at least that is how Tobio describes the end.<em> What end? </em> He thinks. Again, Tobio is uncertain of the unfinished thought.</p><p>"What did you see?" A voice, dulcet as it repeats, maunder into his ears, "What did you see Tobio?"</p><p>One glimpse and he sees autumn. <em>Withering, dwindling, sinking</em>... A festering hazel.</p><p>Tobio gazes at Oikawa's eyes and remembers.</p><p>He sees, distinctly through recollections, the onerous lengths he had to go through for a whit of hush conclusion. How he answered beckons of illusions and called upon a griever to humour them with him. How he answered sobs and whimpers of a stranger that is never to reside in <em>his</em> universe. It was a maddening journey, Tobio is reminded. The boy had skipped over crumbling trails and stalked the ghost of a friend that had long forsaken him. Where his endeavours led only cost few but it pained his friends nonetheless. Tobio himself had lamented the same. </p><p>The day he chose to follow the voice, was the first he'd woken up to the sounds of sirens and wailing women. Mother. Sister. Some relatives that Tobio can vaguely recognise. They were there. Gawking, thinking, praying–</p><p>
  <em>"Where did you run off to, Tobio?"</em>
</p><p>–asking.</p><p>Tobio's limbs had been heavy then, stuck beneath the ruins of a shed too frazzled to stand on its ageing pillars. <em>Adrift. Astray. Amiss.</em> Gone to wander off to the precipice–</p><p>It's a memory Tobio isn't too keen on reliving. </p><p>And yet, here he lies again, beckoning the same memories to resurface just to give him whole peace. <em>Whole peace</em>. To him, no peace is whole until he has erased the questions in his mind. To him, no peace is whole until he has scoured every wrinkled note that causes him grief... or hearken to the same pattern of beats again and again and again until-</p><p>"Tobio," Oikawa calls to him, like a necessary disruption, an anchor of sorts Tobio is wise to latch on to lest he wants to drown in endless streams. "Tell me, what do you know?"</p><p>What does he know? About himself? About Kei? About Oikawa– <em>no</em>, Tooru? What does Tobio know?</p><p>He's found him, that's all. He's found Kei. But,</p><p>"What do I do now?" </p><p>The ambiguity is baffling. It does not heed Tooru's words and responds to a voice that laughs from elsewhere. </p><p>"What do you mean Tobio?" Still, Tooru clings to his waning mind. Still, he cards his fingertips through Tobio's hair and placates the dishevelled stains that mark his skin. He's never done that before. But for Tobio, he tries.<em> For our troubles</em>, he had said, <em>let's mend them</em>.</p><p>"You don't get it, Tooru." Tobio whispers, much too broken, much too frayed. "We were supposed to save him." </p><p>What use would it be to know something he should have known years before? What use would it be to understand the reasons for a tragedy he should have prevented months– or perhaps, <em>hours</em> before its fate? </p><p>What use would it be to mourn for a friend who chose nothing?</p><p>And every second is spent on a decision that he had no place in.</p><p>"Tobio," A voice, dulcet as it repeats, maunder into his ears, "He didn't want us to."</p><p>Again, he weeps. He curls to himself and waits as an embrace engulfs him.</p><p>
  <em>Humans are scary, aren't they?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>One moment they exist and the next they don't. </em>
</p><p>*</p><p>It's deafening when he comes for his first visit. The meadow, once only teeming with auburn stalks, now houses a tombstone at its highest slope. Flowers trail after the pathway of its shadows. And like a phantom, they hide beneath the sway of blooming spring.</p><p>"I'm glad you're here." Tadashi welcomes him. He always does. No ill behind his solace. No bitterness within his gaze. There is only pure, unfeigned care for Tobio.</p><p>Tobio decides then that he deserves no such thing. He couldn't even save a friend. </p><p>"Befitting isn't it?" Tadashi talks to him anyway. He bears nothing but mellow smiles and timorous mumbles. When he kneels, a garland to adorn the marble stone with, he is gentle still. "A meadow's just the right place for resting."</p><p>Tobio lays down posies near the wreath of white, gold and silken. He is noiseless when he moves, and only waits for what Tadashi has to say next.</p><p>"It gets better, Tobio."</p><p>There it is. The assurance. The anguish shared. A consolation that insists Tobio is not at fault. An assertion that Tobio cannot see as true.</p><p><em>Maybe it doesn't</em>, so he wants to say. He glances at Tadashi's melancholy and falters.</p><p>"What would you have done... if you could change things?"</p><p>The whistling air whisks the tune away at a mellow pace. A breeze begins to blue.</p><p>"I don't think there's much I can change of another person's fate." Tadashi tells him. It's an idea far from the notions he once rambled about. Suppose his mourning had changed more than the glisten of his eyes. "I'll try. Whatever the eventuality is, I'll try."</p><p>Tobio takes his hand and holds it firmly to his chest. They do not turn to each other. Their gazes are pinned on the scribble of a name fading.</p><p>"Won't it haunt you when you fail?" </p><p>Tadashi grips tighter. "It gets better each day, Tobio."</p><p>There is no answer to his question but a simple, honest <em>I don't know</em>. </p><p>*</p><p>"Are you happy now?" </p><p>Red taps against glass. The golden brim of a cup is once again corrupted. </p><p>Tsukishima-san is poised as she receives the glare fixed on her. She knows what Tobio means. It's written in the ire of her eyes when Tobio so much as mutter <em>Kei</em> within her vicinity.</p><p>"No mother would ever wish for their son's death."</p><p>It is a lie so wretched Tobio wishes it could burn her. Instead, there is only unrest to dangle in the air. Instead, heaven could only do so much for a soul meant for hell.</p><p>"I hope you peace, Tsukishima-san." Tobio says. And he utters it like a curse that will never leave the other.</p><p>Of course, she will never have it. She'll be damned to keep yearning for it.</p><p>It is the only punishment Tobio can deliver. But it is a punishment that will beset until there is no more of spite from Kei's soul to meander.</p><p>"I hope you peace."</p><p>In truth, Tobio hopes her relief will never come.</p><p>*</p><p>"What do I do now?"</p><p>Tooru offers a hand. "Whatever Kei would have wanted us to."</p><p>Tobio spares the palm a brief examination. <em>Calloused</em>. <em>Tired</em>. He lays his atop and feels warmth. "Do you ever think we were always meant to have them?"</p><p>Tooru peers down at the box that Tobio diffidently refers to. Gingerly, he nods, "Maybe."</p><p>Tobio recoils, shoulders freezing. "Then... shouldn't we have done something? Shouldn't we have–"</p><p>"It was a gift, Tobio." Tooru tells him, hazel burning. "That's all it was."</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>One day, you'll be dust and no one will even know you existed.</em>
</p><p>"I would. If, one day, you'll be nothing but dust...I don't think I'll forget you. <em>Ever</em>."</p><p>*</p><p>The sea is at peace. Little turbulence is found in its currents. There is a lulling drone of blue drafts and gleaming streaks, but nothing of the tumultuous kind.</p><p>Tobio cradles the box in his hand and whispers to it one last time.</p><p>"This time, it'll be better." He promises. "This time, there is no suffering." </p><p>And then the breeze fastens as though alive. Kei slips past his shoulder, nudging playfully when he skips onto the lure of the ripples. He turns to cast him a smile. It's nothing like the grins Kei often showed. It's nothing like the adoring ones he sneakily gave. </p><p>But it's everything <em>Kei</em> too. </p><p>"You can let go now." Tooru coaxes the box out of his embrace. Carefully, he lays it on sand and watches as it drifts. </p><p>For a brief instance, Tobio sees Kei again. All golden. Free. His feathers spread, <em>unfettered</em>.</p><p><em>"See you again."</em>  He mouths a farewell, robbed of a voice.</p><p>Tobio waves, "See you again."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>;</p><p>Coarse sand crawls to his skin. Sun paints him red. Tobio stirs as the prodding on his cheek subsides.</p><p>"Finally! You're awake." Shouyou beams, mirthful as ever. "You've been dozing off with that same playlist on repeat."</p><p>Tobio grimaces as he sits up from the grasp of the sand. He wipes away the blur of his sight and yawns faintly. Shouyou stays seated by his side, a patient observer.</p><p>"How long have I been asleep?"</p><p>"Seriously? You don't know?" His friend squawks, befuddled. "You've been lying on the sand for 3 hours! Bokuto-san and I even splashed you with water and you didn't wake up. We thought you were dead."</p><p>From afar, Tobio can see the burly silhouette of the boy. The others are there too, lazing by the shoreline as grilled food wafts through the open winds.</p><p>Tobio scans the blue haze and sees Tetsurou guarding the grill. He hears Tadashi's hearty chuckles and Keiji's mumbled jests. He watches Koutarou too, cackling gleefully after another successful dive into the waters.</p><p>"Where's Kei?" He asks, searching.</p><p>Shouyou snickers at him and jokingly flicks his forehead. "You always look for him first, don't you?"</p><p>"He told to me to return this playlist to him once I was done with it." Tobio reasons, soothing the new sting on his skin. </p><p>"He's near the cliff again," Shouyou informs. With ease, he stands up from his crouch and stretches his limbs. "Kuroo-san's almost done with the cooking, make sure to get him back before Bokuto-san eats both of your shares."</p><p>"Don't let him," Tobio grumbles. He lets himself be pulled by Shouyou's hand. The wires of his earphones hang on his neck, connected to a small device that Tobio instinctively pockets in his shorts.</p><p>"Can't promise anything, grumpy." Shouyou teases. Brushing off the dust on his knees, he instructs, "Walk faster, Kei's waiting for you."</p><p>"Will do," He says. He does otherwise and walks absently despite the reminder. In his idle musing, his eyes trace the blaze of the horizon. Little by little, the clouds part and hide. Only the glare of the sun could stare back at Tobio as he trudged. As if pulled, the boy automatically finds himself trekking an upward slope.</p><p>There, at the edge of a sandy cliff, enamoured by the marvel of the skies, sits a lonesome figure.</p><p>"Kei," Tobio recognises him immediately. He treads toward the boy's direction, idle with his pace. "You'll fall."</p><p>"I'm okay." Kei peeks over his shoulder and smiles, "Finally awake?"</p><p>"Yeah," Tobio grumbles. He positions himself beside the other, bones whining, "What are you doing here? Lunch's about to be served."</p><p>"They can wait for a few more minutes," Kei shrugs off. He has his knees pulled to his chest, chin tucked behind folder arms. "The sky looks good today."</p><p>"It's the same old sky to me." Tobio remarks.</p><p>Kei returns him a scoff, fond. "What took you so long?"</p><p>Tobio scrunches his nose. "What do you mean?"</p><p>"Why'd you sleep for so long?"</p><p>"Had a weird dream." Tobio sags.</p><p>Kei laughs, amused. "A dream? In the middle of the day?"</p><p>Tobio scratches his nape and stifles another yawn."It was a long, peculiar one. It felt like I was... <em>elsewhere</em>."</p><p>"Elsewhere, <em>huh</em>," The boy hums, "Sounds like a different world to me."</p><p>"Maybe," Tobio agrees. He counts, for several seconds, relishing the hush before finally, he extends a hand. </p><p>Kei flushes at his offer and frowns, "We're not kids anymore. I don't need you to hold my hand."</p><p>Tobio ignores his objections and takes his hand as he stands.</p><p>"It's tradition." He insists.</p><p>"There's no such thing." Kei huffs at him, endeared. He clings to the other's palm, touch less aversive.</p><p>They glide down the slope, fingers tightly clasped. Lazily, they walk along the damp shoreline. With each step covered, a footprint embeds itself. Tobio and Kei look on as the blurry image of their friends clear.</p><p>"Let's return here again someday." Kei thinks aloud.</p><p>Tobio holds the hand closer and chuckles, "Someday."</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>Why did you give it to me?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I just wanted you to listen.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>finally, after months of wandering, i have finally given this story an ending. forgive me if this end note may be too short, i am running on slow sleep. </p><p>i previously planned a different ending for this series, but along the way, i realised that the changes i made had inevitably also changed the it. still, i am quite happy with this conclusion. :&gt;</p><p>thank you, for your continuous support. and with my whole heart, i hope you all a good day &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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